Of Birds and Bats
by Rookblonkorules
Summary: Because life with the Bat family is never, ever simple. Or normal. A series of loosely connected one-shots centered around Jason, Dick, Bruce, Alfred, Barbara and, of course, Ace, the Bat-Hound. Occasional Dick/Babs. Slight AU. Any warnings will be posted along with the chapters they apply to. No slash.
1. Ghost Stories

**A/N** Well, it's been about a month, I think, since I published anything, so I'm hoping to get started up again. This has been on my computer for months actually (it was my first attempt at writing the characters- a sort of practice run I suppose) and I finally decided to publish.

This is basically a dumping ground for all the crazy one-shots that come into my head. I've seen other people do it and I've wanted to do a series of roughly connected one-shots for a while now, so here it is. Or at least the first chapter. I've written up to chapter five (chapter five is still in the process of being written) so far, but I won't be posting them all right away. If my schedule (and my access to the computer) allows, I'll have the next one up sometime next week.

There's going to be a lot of focus on Jason in this collection-mostly because he's my favorite character and, well, yeah, he's my favorite character, but also because I've decided that younger Jason needs a lot more attention then he's been getting. That doesn't mean I'll be neglecting the other characters though. Or... at least I hope I won't be, but I do mean it when I say that most of the focus will be on Jason. And, because I love the idea of the Bat family having a dog, Ace will be making appearances as well.

As for how old the characters are... I'm just going to say that Dick is around fifteen and Jason is somewhere around eleven/twelve. Something like that.

This is also the story where I essentially write my own version of canon, as there are certain things that I've changed exclusively for this collection. Most everything else I write will follow canon much more closely.

And, before I forget, a special shout-out to Purplehood and Merritt who've read everything I've got so far and who have given tremendously helpful advice.

 **Disclaimer** Nope, I don't own DC or any of its characters.

 **Chapter One** : Ghost Stories

 **XxX**

Jason had to admit-the blanket fort did look pretty good. Sure, it sagged a little on one side, but at least it stayed up. That was the important thing.

That didn't have to mean that he had to be happy with Dick for dragging him into this whole thing to begin with.

Jason tried to burrow deeper into the mound of pillows and blankets he had brought in from his own room. He could hear Dick moving around across from him and, then, there was a click and the fort was suddenly flooded with light.

"Dick!" He sat up and glared balefully at his older brother who had switched on the powerful flashlight and was shining it experimentally around the fort. There was no way he would be able to go to sleep with that thing turned on. Plus, the beam was casting weird shadows around them and Jason didn't want to admit that that might be just a little bit creepy. "Turn it off!" he hissed.

Instead of complying, Dick grinned so wide it nearly split his face in two and held the light underneath his chin. Now the lower half of his face was completely illuminated, while the upper half was completely encased in darkness.

Okay, now that was creepy. "Turn. It. Off," Jason growled between clenched teeth as he made a move for the flashlight. He managed to get his hands around it, ignoring Dick's surprised "Hey!" as he fought to get Jason's hands off, and struggled to hit the switch that would turn the light out. Before he could, Dick had pried his hands off of it and moved out of his reach so quickly that Jason was left blinking in surprise.

Dick and his stupid acrobat skills. He would never get the stupid flashlight from him now. He was surprised, too, to see Dick hadn't knocked the fort down with his little leap. Come to think of it, it was a miracle it was still standing, considering that the two of them had just been wrestling for the light.

Jason settled for sitting back down on his makeshift bed and continuing to glare at Dick. Oh, if looks could only kill…

"What are you doing?" Jason finally asked, reluctantly. Dick looked way too happy about… something. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't suspicious.

"Come on, Jay. Haven't you ever told ghost stories?"

"Ghost stories?" Jason was incredulous. Of course Dick would have some harebrained scheme like this up his sleeve. "You want to tell ghost stories?"

"Yeah!" If possible, Dick's smile got wider, before he shrugged and continued. "Well, not exactly ghost stories, but scary stories. My cousin used to tell me them all the time when I was with the circus. Didn't you ever tell ghost stories?" he asked again.

"No," Jason answered, a little shortly and Dick immediately looked crestfallen.

"Oh. Oh yeah. Um," he brightened. "Well, now's as good a time as any to start. I'll go first."

Jason drew his knees up a little closer to his chest and reached forward so he was grasping his toes. "Do we have to?" he whined.

Dick looked surprised and maybe a little… hurt? But no, that was impossible. Who would feel hurt because he didn't want to hear scary stories, ghost or not? "You're always supposed to tell a scary story when you camp out! It's the rule!"

"But we're not camping out!" Jason protested.

"We're not sleeping in our beds, though," Dick pointed out.

"So?"

"So… that's close enough," Dick said with finality. "Now do you want me to go first or do you want to?"

"You go first," Jason grumbled. He sure wasn't going to be telling a stupid ghost story. "I still say it's a stupid rule," he muttered under his breath. If Dick had heard him, he didn't show it.

"It all started," he began, turning the flashlight back on his face to heighten the creepy effect, "in a little town somewhere in the middle of the United States. It was a normal town… except for one little detail. The townsfolk kept seeing a strange, hairy man wandering the woods."

Jason resisted the urge to roll his eyes. This was all so cliché… he didn't see how _any_ one could find it scary. A strange hairy man? _Really_ , Dick? Couldn't do better than that? At least it wasn't a clown.

"Those who saw it described it as being about eight feet tall and covered in shaggy, dark brown hair. Even its face was completely covered by hair. They weren't even sure it _had_ a face. No one knew what it was, but they had a special name for it: Momo."

Now Jason really did roll his eyes. "Momo, Dick. _Really?_ "

"Shhhh!" Dick hushed him, looking annoyed that his story was being disrupted. "Don't interrupt."

"But, Dick, _Momo_! Even _Bigfoot_ sounds better than that!"

"It's just what they called it. I wasn't the one naming it. Now hush up."

Jason fell silent, still scowling, and Dick resumed speaking. "The first _real_ incident happened when a woman and her daughter decided to have a picnic at the side of the road together, so they pulled over at what seemed like a nice spot."

Jason snorted, certain he knew how this was going to end. "Their mistake."

Dick ignored him. "Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. It was a nice little grassy area with the woods not too far away. They had just settled down when they both heard a horrible gurgling noise." He paused dramatically. "There, standing right at the edge of the woods, was the Momo! Terrified, the two women dropped everything and ran to their car, locking themselves inside. They had forgotten the keys when they ran, so they were stuck there until they finally scared it off by honking the horn."

Jason felt the hairs on the back of his neck begin to stand on end and he unconsciously hugged his knees closer to his body.

"That wasn't the only time though. Next, it was a teenaged girl who was brushing her teeth when she heard her two younger brothers scream out by the old rabbit hutches."

Jason leaned forward, eyes wide. "What happened?" he whispered. Dick looked a little too pleased that his audience was finally listening, but Jason couldn't care less.

"Her two brothers were standing out by the old rabbit cages," Dick answered, lowering the flashlight for a moment, "but they weren't alone. The Momo was standing no more than four feet away."

There was a rustling noise from outside as a breeze moved through one of the large trees directly outside the manor. Jason shivered and tried to convince himself that it was because of the cold. After all, Dick did always sleep with his window open and it was a little chilly.

"The next time…"

"Shhhh!" Jason hissed quickly, holding a finger to his lips.

"Stop interrupting!" Dick looked peeved with him again.

"Did you hear that?" Jason asked, looking quickly at Dick before taking a nervous glance at the opening they had left in the blanket fort.

Dick moved the flashlight away from his face, shining the beam at the makeshift "door." "Don't tell me your scared already, Jay," he said, forcing a teasing smile. "I haven't even finished."

"Shut up!" Jason hissed, trying his best to sound irritated and not at all nervous, while shoving Dick away when he leaned against him. "I heard something!"

"You… sure you didn't just imagine it?" Dick asked slowly, crawling forward so he could peer through the opening. Then he froze. "Crap! I hear it too!"

"I told you!" Jason whispered, inadvertently inching a tiny bit closer to Dick. "Something's coming up the stairs."

The door may have been partway shut, but they could still hear the soft footfalls as they landed on each stair. Dick switched off the light and crawled closer to the gap in the blankets, listening. "Did you have to turn that off? Now we can't see!" Jason whispered, gesturing towards the flashlight Dick still held in his hand.

Dick quickly shushed him. "I'm trying to listen."

"It can't be Bruce, right? Bruce wouldn't be back from patrol yet." It was only eleven o'clock. Patrol didn't usually end for another few hours. And Alfred's still in the Batcave at this time." Jason didn't realize he was babbling until Dick shot him another look. He shut up and instead glared at him.

 _Click-clack. Click-clack._

The footsteps were no longer on the staircase, but now seemed to be slowly making their way down to the hall. Not only that, but they weren't alone. The clacking of nails on hardwood said as much.

Dick tensed, feeling Jason pressed up next to him. The noise stopped directly outside their door. Beside him, the sound of Jason's breathing suddenly got more rapid. The door didn't creak on its hinges as it was pushed open (because there were never creaky door hinges with Alfred and his OCD-like maintenance around. Something told Jason Alfred would be indignant at the mere idea.), but the door had been pushed open, no doubt about it.

Dick had learned enough about paying attention to his surroundings when he couldn't see to know when his door was being pushed open. That's what happened when you had the Batman for a father.

There was silence for a moment, before something slowly padded its way onto the carpeted floor of his bedroom. Jason gave Dick a wide-eyed stare before whispering, "We can take 'em. Two against one!"

Dick almost had to laugh at Jason's attempt at sounding brave, but when he did, it sounded like more of a wheezing gasp. He did manage a half-grin at Jason's questioning and somewhat panicked look. Then, Jason stiffened as that something shuffled its way across the floor, making a few detours around the room and stopping here and there, before coming to a full stop outside their blanket fort.

Jason's back was up against the wall of the fort and he sat shoulder to shoulder with Dick, who still not turned the flashlight back on. Jason was tentatively reaching for it-things were always so much better with a light- when he felt something pressing into the small of his back, something that was snuffling and very much alive.

Jason couldn't help the yell that exploded from his throat as he leaped clumsily away from it. As he did so, he felt his foot catch on the part of the blankets, which had piled together on the floor, and he went sprawling, yanking the wall of the fort down on top of him and Dick.

Dick gave a surprised yelp and there was an excited howl from the animal in the room. " _Ace!_ " Jason gasped, recognizing the bark as belonging to the dog.

"It's Ace!" Dick actually laughed, sounding more relieved then Jason had ever remembered hearing him before. _Seriously, what had he thought was out there?_

Jason clawed at the blankets covering his head, finally succeeding in yanking them down off his head at around the same time Dick did.

"Di… yuck!" he gasped as he felt a great, big slobbering tongue on his face. "Ace!" Shoving the dog away in an attempt to protect his face, he turned his attention towards Dick. Or at least part of his attention. Ace's presence in a room nearly always required that some attention be on him, lest you regret it.

Not that he was likely to forget it, with the dog still going for his face.

There was a flick of a switch outside the door and the light in the hall turned on, illuminating a human figure in the doorway.

"Might I inquire what the two of you are doing up this late? Master, Dick, I was under the impression that the reason you are not on patrol tonight is because you needed to get some rest before your test tomorrow."

The two of them turned their attention to the Wayne family butler, currently standing in the doorway and staring at them somewhat severely. It was hard to tell, though, since the light behind him made it difficult to read his expression.

Dick, at least, managed to look somewhat sheepish. "Sorry, Alfred, we were just… telling some, uh, stories."

Alfred gave an almost unperceived little sniff. "And giving each other nightmares I presume."

"Ace!" Jason hissed again, trying desperately to keep the dog at arms length. Ace whined happily, straining to reach his face. Dick glanced at Jason out of the corner of his eyes and gave a small smile.

"Something like that," Dick said, shrugging.

"Well, then, I'm certain Master Bruce will enjoy hearing the excuse for why you're both climbing into bed with him in the middle of the night." Despite his stern demeanor, the butler's amusement was evident on what they could see of his face.

"Alfred!" Dick protested, cheeks reddening slightly. "I'm not ten anymore!"

"Well, then, I believe the two of you can be trusted to get some rest _without_ anymore disturbance?" Alfred queried, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah, um…" Dick glanced at Jason. "Yeah, we'll be good."

"Then, Master Jason, if you would…" Alfred stepped to the side, as if waiting for Jason to get up and follow him to his room.  
"Wait!" Jason said quickly, interrupting him. Alfred, good old Alfred, didn't appear startled at all by the interruption and, instead, waited patiently at the door, looking at him expectantly. Jason looked down, suddenly mumbling. "You think maybe I could spend the night in here with Dick? Just for tonight?" He shrugged, a little too nonchalantly. "My stuff's already all in here anyway so I might as well stay." Dick looked at him, surprised. Jason, with his arms now wrapped around Ace, who was panting contentedly, sounded… hopeful.

Alfred picked up on it too if the soft look he gave the both of them was anything to go by, but there was also a little bit of… suspicion. It was one thing to see that with Bruce, but with Alfred it was something unusual. "I don't see the harm in it… as long as you both get your rest and so long as there is no more of this story telling' nonsense." Alfred didn't say anything more about the storytelling, but of course he knew they had both scared themselves silly. It was, in fact, kind of obvious given their reactions to Ace's arrival… and Dick doubted Alfred approved.

The butler looked to both of them for their answers and Jason nodded his head quickly. Dick did so more slowly, scrutinizing Jason carefully, but he seemed innocent enough. No ulterior motives there… that he could tell. Although, come to think of it, what ulterior motives would he really have?

When Alfred had left, bringing a reluctant Ace with him, and they had reasonably settled down on the floor, Dick wondered if he should question Jason's sudden eagerness to follow through with the camp-out. He pulled the blankets tighter around himself and considered the idea.

"You know, you suck at telling scary stories," Jason finally whispered before Dick could speak up.

Dick laughed quietly. "Gee… thanks." A thought occurred to him. "Hey, is _that_ why you decided you wanted to spend the night in here?"

Jason reached over and gave Dick a light shove. "Shut up!" he muttered, but at least he smiled. It was a small smile, but a smile nonetheless. "Can't I spend time with my favorite big brother?"

He wasn't sure why, but something in Dick positively _glowed_ at the words "big brother."

There was silence for a moment, before Jason spoke again. "Hey Dick?"

Dick shifted so that he was once more looking at his adoptive brother. "Yeah?"

Even in the almost complete darkness, Dick could see Jason furrow his brows. "That story? Was it, um, true?"

Dick thought about that for a moment. "Probably not. I heard it from my cousin when I was still in the circus. We happened to be passing through that particular town and I guess he heard it from one of the locals. He got a kick out of telling me the story. I'm pretty sure everyone there thought it was true, or they seemed to. I guess they were proud of it. Kinda like their own urban legend or something. "

"Oh." Jason was silent again as he most likely mulled over that new piece of information. "Urban legends aren't true, right?"

Dick paused. "Uh, no, I don't think so. Most of them aren't anyway."

Jason rolled over. "It was still a stupid story," he muttered, snuggling deeper into his bedding.

"But it didn't scare you?" Dick couldn't resist needling him a little. Just a little.

Jason turned his head so that he was giving Dick a death glare over his shoulder. "No!"

Dick shrugged and couldn't help but smile. "Sure, if you say so."

/

/

 **Updated Author's Note: The story that Dick tells Jason is actually one that I read in a book my mom had. It was called "Mysterious America," I believe, and Momo scared me more than anything else had at that age. (I was probably six or seven when I read the book, lol.) It still kind of creeps me out, but I'm betting that book is what sparked my current interest in cryptids! ;D**

 **Please review and let me know what you think!**


	2. Wanderer

**A/N Here it is... the second chapter. I want to thank anybody who's favorited/followed and reviewed this so far. Again, this chapter here was written several months ago when I was still getting used to the characters, but I hope you enjoy it.**

 **I'd also like to thank Purplehood and Merritt for their encouragement and for going over this chapter when it was complete. You guys rock!**

 **Warnings: Peril and some language.**

 **Disclaimer: Nothing has changed. I still don't own DC or related characters.**

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He wasn't supposed to be out here. When (and it was a when, not an if) Bruce found out that Jason had sneaked out of the manor, well… Jason suspected that he would be looking at a grounding of at least a few months. That is, if Bruce didn't just decide he was too much trouble and just kick him back out on the streets where he came from and no doubt belonged.

He didn't know why getting out of the manor had seemed like a good idea at the time. He hadn't really thought it through, simply acted without thinking. That was something he did: act impulsively.

Jason wasn't sure he even knew what he was going to do now that he was on the streets of Gotham. Finding Batman and Robin, as he had originally planned, now seemed to him to be as impossible as it was stupid. That had been his plan. Sneak out, witness the two of them in action and get back before anyone knew he was gone. Yeah. Like that was going to happen.

Still, the whole point he had been trying to get across to himself was that it had seemed like a good idea. What kid who knowingly lived in the same house as the freaking Batman of all people would just sit back and not want to be a part of it in some way?

And after wandering the streets of Gotham for nearly an hour, he suddenly found himself here, in front of his old home. That old, shabby little apartment building he and his folks, Willis and Catherine Todd, had once barely scraped by in. Did anyone even still live here? It didn't look like it.

He had no idea why his subconscious mind decided to take him here of all places. So much had happened here. So much that he thought he'd put behind him.

Some emotion that Jason couldn't positively identify stirred deep within him and he quickly quelled it, shoving it back down where it came from.

Standing here, Jason could remember all those times his fath-Willis Todd had returned home after a particularly bad deal with the gang, looking for someone to use the belt on. All the times he had found Catherine in a drugged out stupor on the floor. He can also remember the few good times, though.

A wave of nostalgia hit him as he remembered the few earlier Christmases that had come close to being a happy celebration, and while he didn't find it altogether unpleasant, he wasn't enjoying the sensation either. Down by his side, his hands formed into fists as he briefly entertained the thought of going inside, just to see what it was like now. In the end, though, he let it go. What was the point? There was nothing there for him to see. No real memories worth dredging up.

Frustrated, he jammed his hands deep into the pockets of his jeans, glad that he'd at least at the sense to get dressed before sneaking out, and turned to go. There was nothing more for him to do now except return to the Manor and face the Batman's wrath. Oh yeah. That was going to be fun.

He'd probably be facing Alfred's wrath too, if the man had gone up to check on him and discovered him missing. And then Bruce would kill him even more for giving Alfred a heart attack.

He'd be lying if he said he wasn't looking forward to that with dread.

That was provided anyone had noticed his absence. No matter how much they assured him that he was wanted, that he was a part of the family, if it could even be called that, he couldn't avoid the feeling that it was all just… fake. That he'll be back on the streets the minute he screws up and Bruce, Dick and Alfred will all go back to their perfect little life without him and no one will be the wiser.

He paused, taking in the surrounding area. It was empty, bleak and desolate. The only lighting came from a few broken street lamps, two of them on the verge of dying out for good. There were voices, loud ones, shouting somewhere in the distance, coming from one of the boarded up buildings no doubt, but in his immediate vicinity, all seemed relatively quiet.

Jason never remembered it being this quiet here. This hadn't exactly been a bad part of town, no, there were places much worse, like, say, the Narrows, but there was usually always something happening. It almost felt like the silence was meant for him specifically and, although the thought it was ridiculous, it stuck in his mind and left him feeling unnerved.

He quickened his pace, letting his eyes drift along the buildings, all in various states of disrepair. The sound of a bottle shattering and muffled cursing coming from the second story apartment of one such building barely made him flinch before he continued on. After all, he'd grown up here; he was used to things like that… and worse.

He swerved in his course, taking a sharp right. An alley. A shortcut. Not really the best decision, but if you knew your way around, knew how to keep out of the way of the people you really didn't want to meet, which could be pretty much everyone, then you would most likely be okay.

And Jason most certainly knew his way around.

He hadn't walked for more than six paces when a feeling has the hair standing on the back of his neck and suddenly he knew he wasn't alone.

Chalk it up to having spent years surviving on the streets alone, to having just spent the past year of his life with a man who brought new meaning to the word "paranoid," (an annoying voice in his head explains that, no, it's just being prepared, but it's all the same thing, really. Isn't it?), but Jason has never, never, not listened to his gut instinct. Not when his survival could very well depend on it and he wasn't about to start ignoring it now.

He switched gears, his pace turning swiftly into a steady jog-out of the alley, keep going several blocks and he would be in a relatively safer area.

Running. Running was bad. Running told the predators that you were the prey, but if you had no other option…

His eyebrows creased together as he frowned at the idea. Jason Todd was nobody's prey. During his entire time on the street, before the night he met Batman, Jason had always managed to avoid falling prey to the criminals and vagabonds that wandered the streets and alleyways of Gotham.

And here? Now? He couldn't see, didn't know what was causing that feeling to stir up in his gut, but he damn well knew he wanted out of that alley.

Once out, it wouldn't be too hard to evade any pursuers; he had done so countless times before.

A few more yards-maybe even two- and…oof! He felt his body collide with something or someone that hadn't been there before and the only thought that could formulate in his mind is why the hell hadn't he noticed it stepping out in front of him. Maybe his time spent living the high life had dulled his street sense because there was no way he should have been so focused on anything behind him so that he missed any potential threat ahead of him.

"Hey!" he cried out instinctively, twisting away even as he felt two strong hands closing around his wrists. "Let go!"

"Past your bedtime, isn't it, kid?" The voice that spoke was soft, yet sinister and Jason stops fighting for one brief moment to get a look at his attacker.

Well-built, he's strong most definitely. If Jason was going to get away, he wouldn't be doing so using his own strength.

"What you think you're doin' out here?" The man presses. A sneer, only slightly hidden behind the thug's unkempt beard, plays along the edge of his lips. It's the grin of a man looking for someone to hurt, who's done it before, and who hasn't been caught.

"Lookin' for your mommy, boy?" There's a second voice from behind him and Jason's fear kicks up a notch as two more men come up behind him.

"Let go!" Jason tried one more time to get free, bringing his knee up with all the force he can manage and getting the man between his legs.

" _Oof_!" Caught off guard, the man released his grip on Jason's wrists, doubling over, and the boy wasted no time in making a dash for freedom, only to find himself crashing straight into the arms of another.

"Where you think you're goin,' kid? We say you could leave?"

Panic seared its way through his mind and he kicked out, swinging his fists wildly at the new hands grasping for his arms. "Let go! _Let go!_ " He got in several good hits and was all of a sudden very satisfied that he had at least had accomplished _that_ much.

Jason raised his fist back for another strike, when his wrist was suddenly seized from behind and his arm was wrenched behind him.

He couldn't help the cry of pain and surprise that escaped him as whoever was holding his arm yanked… hard. Jason stumbled back, nearly tripping, and he clenched his teeth to keep himself from whimpering.

His arm was released, but before Jason could even begin to make a run for it, the hands had him tightly once again, gripping him just above the elbows.

Jason resisted the urge to glance up at the sky, knowing that there wouldn't be anyone there. Batman can't be everywhere at once, but it would be a lie if he said he wasn't hoping beyond hope that he would look up and see him there.

But that was something Jason had learned not to do: lie to himself. It would do no good to hope for something that wasn't coming. After years of having only himself to rely on, he wasn't ready to start trusting anyone else.

Jason stopped struggling, instead staring straight ahead at the man in front. The other one- the man he ran into- joined him.

"Shoulda stayed at home, kid," the first man sneered, cracking his knuckles.

Three men. There are three men. Three attackers. The one holding him and the two in front of him. Jason took a deep breath, willing his heart to slow its beating, but it didn't work.

One of the men stepped forward and leaned in close. Instinctively, Jason tried to back away, only to feel the grip on his arms tighten painfully, a reminder of just how serious the situation he was in was.

He wrinkled his nose in disgust-he could feel the man's breath on his face – and tilted his head away, trying to bring some distance between them.

Instead, the man grasped his chin, forcing him to look up at him. Jason's heart rate spiked rapidly, but he chose to ignore the feeling of dread forming in his gut in favor of glaring directly into the man's eyes.

Whatever this man wants, he won't get fear from him.

"Didn't your momma ever tell you, you shouldn't be out after dark?" the man sneered. "It's not safe."

"Look who's talking," Jason growled, kicking out with his leg in a failed attempt at defiance.

The man tightened his grip on Jason's face and Jason couldn't keep himself from struggling, trying to get away from him. But, _crap_ , that grip _hurt_. He already felt like there were going to be permanent imprints from this guy's fingers in the side of his face.

Something that sounded like it was somewhere in between a whimper and a growl escaped him.

The man dropped his hand to his side, releasing his grip on Jason's already very sore jaw. Jason let out in involuntary hiss and jerked his head back, glaring venomously. "Go to hell," Jason spat, just as the evil glint of steel flashed upwards towards his face.

He squirmed, panic rapidly growing in him as he realized that what was now in his attacker's hand was a _knife._ The man grabbed a fistful of his hair, slamming the back of his head against the chest of the thug holding him tightly so that he had no choice but to look at him.

"Looks like we might need to teach the kid a few things," the man with the knife said his companions.

The initial terror Jason had felt was gone, replaced instead by a pool of dread that formed steadily in his stomach. His breathing hitched when he felt the edge brush gently against his throat. Press harder and it would likely draw blood.

"Lesson one," the knife blade pressed harder, " _we_ own the streets around here."

An object flew through the air, black, shiny and shaped like a bat, embedding itself in the hand holding the knife and the thug drops it, clutching at his now bloody hand and screaming

"Wrong," a voice snarled and Jason was dropped, stumbling back as the two remaining thugs turned their faces to the new threat.

The Batman dropped from the rooftop above them, landing silently in the center of the alley. "This is _my_ city."

For a moment, no one moved, and then, like an enraged bull, one of the men, Jason couldn't tell if it had been the one holding him or not, flung himself at Batman. He swung a punch, but Batman sidestepped it easily, catching his arm and bringing an elbow down on the thug's back.. The man went down with a cry as the second man snarled, lunging forward with a switchblade.

"Damn bat, teach you to…" He didn't finish, the rest of what he was going to say lost as he thrust the knife forward. He didn't even come close to making contact, but when Batman turned to deliver a strike, the thug managed to dodge.

Jason stumbled back a few steps, mouth agape, as he watched the proceedings. He hadn't seen the Batman in action before. Not like this and, well, living with the guy for his guardian really did nothing to lessen the awe he felt.

Still, something felt… wrong. He frowned, watching as Batman took down the second man. That made two, but there had been… three.

Jason yelped suddenly as a hand closed around his shirt collar, dragging him backwards into a headlock. A hand clamped itself over his mouth, muffling any further sound, and something cold, hard and most definitely a _gun_ buried itself into his hair. A lump of fear quickly settled in his stomach. _Since when did the man have a gun?_

"Hey!" the man shouted, waving his gun in the Dark Knight's direction. " _Hey!_ "

Batman turned, dropping the now unconscious thug to the ground. Beneath the cowl, Batman's face twisted into an expression of unmistakable anger. "Let him go," he growled, taking a step forward.

Instantly, the man backed away a step, the gun once again buried in Jason's hair, and Jason couldn't hold back a whimper. "Don't move, Batman!" the man shouted. He was obviously trying to sound confidant and in control, yet he was nervous, maybe even afraid. It was clear in the way his grip tightened considerably on Jason, on the way the gun was pressed against his skull so hard it was starting to give him a headache. "I'll kill the kid." As if there was any doubt to that.

The hand over his mouth tightened painfully and Jason couldn't stop himself from whimpering.

"I said let him go!" Batman snarled. He didn't make a move though, watching the man through narrowed slits in the cowl.

The man backed away a step, barking out a short laugh. "Like that's going to happen. I know all about you freaks. The kid's the only thing I got keeping you from doing me in like those fellows," he gestured at the now unconscious bodies of his buddies, "and handing me over to the cops."

Batman's gaze dropped down to Jason, as if reassuring himself that the boy was okay, and, though his expression was unreadable, his lips pressed firmly into a thin line, Jason got the feeling that there was meant to be some kind of a promise, a promise that everything was going to be okay.

When Batman didn't immediately respond, the man continued, clearly feeling that he was the one in complete control of the situation, "Now," he sneered, "you're going to let me go. And you're not going to come after me. Otherwise…" He let the threat hang unfinished in the air between them. Nothing else needed to be said.

They both knew what would happen.

"Mm-mmph." Jason twisted his head enough to bite down on the flesh of his captor's hand.

"Gah!" The man screeched in agony and the hand quickly slid off his face. Jason gasped, choking violently as an arm looped around his throat, coming dangerously close to cutting off his air supply. "Little shit," the man hissed and, suddenly, the man's gun hand drew back, before the butt of the gun slammed into the side of Jason's head.

Jason cried out as the world around him exploded in a bright flash of light and then all he could see were fuzzy black dots that danced around in his vision.

` A snarl escaped the Dark Knight as he instinctively lunged forward to intervene, but the gun was instantly trained on him. "Stay back!" the man shouted again. "I told you what would happen." The gun was pressed back against Jason's temple, stopping Batman in his tracks.

Jason clawed at the restricting arm holding him hostage, fighting back the tears that loomed threateningly in the corner of his eyes. His temple throbbed where the butt of the gun had struck home and he was sure he was going to have a world class migraine when he got out of this.

The pressure on his neck, combined with the moisture that had managed to escape, was starting to make his vision blur. He was sure Batman had said something, but he couldn't make out the words. Same thing applied when the rumbling thunder over his head let him know that his captor was replying.

Jason could see Batman, standing, tense, at the ready, no more than three yards away from them. One hand was clenched, but the other… was he preparing to throw a batarang?

Jason wasn't the only one who noticed the movement. Instantly, the gun was away from Jason's head and pointed it directly at the Batman. " _Don't_ move…!"

Then the man was shouting something unintelligible, the gun was no longer in his hand, and Jason wasn't sure just what exactly had happened.

The arm was no longer around his neck and he stumbled forward, pressing a hand to his sore throat, only for his legs to give out on him and he landed in a heap on the ground. Jason swallowed, trying to blink past his fuzzy vision. Pushing himself up to his hands and knees, he scrambled away, desperate to put as much distance between him and the creep, as the Batman lunged forward.

"You're _over_ ," the Batman growled, catching him by the lapels of his jacket. The man might of have begged. He might have pleaded, like the coward he was, but Jason didn't know.

He didn't know how long he sat there, on the cold, damp concrete, watching as Batman took down the last of three thugs with several well-placed blows to the jaws. It might have been several seconds or several minutes that he sat there. He didn't know.

Then… someone was beside him, hands were on his shoulders and a voice was speaking to him. "Jay, you okay? _Jay?"_ Jason jerked, releasing the breath he hadn't realized he was holding with a startled hiss. He turned suddenly, shoving away the hands that were touching him, only to find himself staring into the masked eyes of his older brother.

He blinked. "Dick?" he whispered, surprised.

Nightwing shook his head. "No names on the field, remember? You don't know me," he reminded him. His face, what Jason could see of it anyway, was serious, even though his lips gave way to the faintest hint of a smile. "You okay?" he asked again, his voice concerned.

Jason nodded numbly, eyes briefly flickering over to where Batman stood securing the thugs, before returning his gaze to Nightwing. "I-I…" He couldn't stop his body from beginning to tremble and he didn't protest when Nightwing tightened his hold on him, drawing him close.

"It's okay," Nightwing said softly. "You're okay. I've got you now." For a moment, neither one said anything, simply absorbing the warmth of each other's company and, suddenly, Jason realized that he didn't ever want to let go. A rustling of fabric and then _he_ was there.

Behind Batman were the three thugs, lying in a heap and looking like they weren't going to be going anywhere anytime soon, but all Jason could see and feel were Batman's eyes burning holes in him from behind the lenses of his cowl.

He pulled away from Nightwing and found he couldn't bring himself to meet the Batman's gaze, so he settled for staring sullenly at the filthy ground, barely aware of his brother giving his shoulder a supportive squeeze.

Yeah, he had really screwed up this time.

"Get in the car." And there it was. Jason winced involuntarily, but forced himself to meet Batman's eyes anyway.

It was impossible to read anything in Bruce's face, not with the cowl in place, and his voice gave nothing away, but Jason would bet he was angry.

"Bruce." It was Dick who spoke, breaking the rule, using names on the fields, but who was there to hear it? "Batman… mayb-"

Batman turned. "We're going," he said, cutting off anything else Dick might have been trying to say. There was no room left for argument and, even if there was, what was there to argue about?

Dick looked helplessly at Jason and then stood, following the example of their sometimes mentor, sometimes father-figure. There was nothing left for Jason to do, but the same.

To his surprise, the Batmobile wasn't actually that far. Made him wonder if Bruce had a remote for the thing somewhere.

He probably did. He _was_ Batman after all.

He had everything.

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"You want to tell me what you were thinking?"

Jason looked up from his seat in the Batcave. Dick, still dressed in his Nightwing uniform, minus the mask, stood before him.

Bruce was currently downloading files onto the Batcomputer, for which he considered himself lucky.

One less angry bat to deal with.

Jason shifted uncomfortably, suddenly unable to meet his brother's gaze. What was he supposed to say?

"No, seriously, Jay, what were you _thinking_?" Dick continued, cutting Jason off before he had even begun to speak. "You, of all people, should know what it's like out there! You could have been killed!"

Jason scowled. "I can take care of myself just fine, _Dick_."

"Yes, because tonight proved that."

Jason stiffened defensively.

Dick sighed, sitting down next to him. Jason scooted away, putting some distance between the two of them and Dick raised an eyebrow, slightly amused at that. "You know, you nearly gave Alfred a heart attack," he said. Jason looked up at him, startled, and Dick couldn't hold back a laugh. "Seriously, how do you think Bruce and I knew you were gone?"

Jason had the good grace to feel ashamed… for Alfred's sake if not Bruce's. "Sorry?"

For a moment, Dick just stared at him, his lips pressed into a thin line, before, suddenly, his arms were around him and he was pulling him into a tight embrace.

Jason jerked in surprise, but didn't pull away. "Look, whatever happens, I'm glad you're still alive, Jay," Dick whispered in his ear, before pulling away and giving him a light shove on the shoulder. "Now go say you're sorry to Alfie. And then to Bruce when you're done. He's going to want to talk to you."

Jason rolled his eyes. "Lucky me." But inwardly, he cringed.

That was something he wasn't looking forward.

Especially when he already had a good idea of what "talking" to him was going to entail.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"Jason?"

Jason had prepared himself mentally for this encounter since his time in the cave with Dick, but he couldn't keep himself from starting.

Turning around, he spun around to face Bruce, standing in the doorway, arms crossed.

A quick, sideways glance at the digital clock on the bureau showed that it was 1:15 AM.

Late.

Well, actually, it was still early for Batman but late for everyone else.

"Yes?" he asked, cautiously, although, when it came down to it, Bruce Wayne was much easier to deal with than the Batman.

"I want to know what you were thinking." His tone didn't change, but the words still made him wince.

"I… needed air?" He shrugged, attempting to appear nonchalant, but knew that he had failed miserably.

"That's not a good enough excuse, Jason." Jason opened his mouth to retort, but Bruce beat him to the punch. "You could have gotten yourself killed out there, Jason. Regardless, of how you lived your life before coming here, those streets are _dangerous._ " Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling briefly and Jason decided it was now or never.

"So… this is it then?"

That seemed to freeze up Bruce for a moment, and he stared at Jason, who stood stiffly, hands by his side.

"What?"

Jason swallowed, fidgeting with the fabric of his pants, but keeping his hands down. "Finally decided I'm too much trouble? What the papers said is true?"

He backed up, sitting down on the bed, and studied his feet.

There was a moment of silence and he wondered if Bruce was trying to think up a way to say things nicely, but since when did the Batman ever say anything nicely?

A heavy hand rested gently, but firmly, on his shoulder and Jason looked up, surprised. "Jason," Bruce said firmly, "I don't care what you've heard or where you've heard it from, but I do not want you thinking that I would ever, _ever_ throw you back out on the streets. Is that understood?"

"But…"

"I said, is that understood?"

Jason frowned, eyebrows furrowing together, as he studied Bruce, unsure if he really meant that.

Bruce's hand tightened its grip on his shoulder. "What you did tonight out there was stupid, dangerous and unacceptable, and… I'm going to want to know why you did it, but do not for one second think that I would _ever_ throw you back on those street after pulling you off them. Do you understand that, Jason?"

"I… what?" Jason blinked. "But I… I thought…" He trailed off awkwardly, suddenly finding his shoes extremely interesting.

Bruce sat down on the bed next to him. "Jason, no matter what you might think or what you do to disappoint me, you will _always_ have a home in Wayne Manor, but I think we need to work out a system. I want you to be able to trust me, but, in return, I need to be able to trust you. That means no more late night excursions. Is that something you think you'd be interested in?"

Jason nodded, a little too vigorously. "Yeah, um…. I mean… yeah…" He looked up at Bruce. "I think… I think that would be nice."

"I'm glad you think so," Bruce smiled, patting his shoulder, getting up and heading for the door, leaving Jason stunned and still seated at the edge of his bed.

"Just… one last thing," Bruce said, pausing at the doorway and turning to face Jason once more. "You're still grounded."

Jason nodded, biting his lip. After all, as much as he hated it, he supposed it was only fair. And he should count himself lucky.

Bruce was letting him stay, wasn't he? So there wasn't much to complain about in that department.

Bruce was still in the doorway, watching him. Jason wasn't sure if he was waiting to see how well he would take the punishment or what.

Jason swallowed, drawing his knees up to his chest and traced the Superman symbol on his bedsheets with one finger.

Really, he was getting too old for stuff like this.

Maybe he should have Alfred change it…

"Jason?"

His attention snapped back to Bruce and he realized the man was staring at him with concern.

He blinked and his mouth fell open and shut and then open again as he gaped up at him, unsure of what the big man wanted.

"Are…" Bruce began, but then seemed to think the better of whatever it was he had been about to say. "Is there anything you want to talk about?" he amended.

"I…" Jason was still confused. Hadn't they already talked? He hugged his knees tighter to his chest.

Bruce sighed, running a hand through the back of his hair and glancing momentarily up at the ceiling. "I… That was a stupid question, I know. I'm sorry."

Jason still stared, blinking owlishly. Bruce was apologizing? To _him_? He didn't understand.

Sensing his confusion, Bruce took a step closer to him, stopping just short of reaching the bed. "Jason… what happened tonight… you can talk about it." He paused and it occurred to Jason that the man really felt just as helpless as he did in these kinds of situations.

The thought was oddly consoling, though he wasn't sure exactly why it felt that way.

Bruce cleared his throat. "If you… feel like you need to that is." Another brief pause. "That's all."

Jason was silent for what felt like a long moment. He wasn't sure how he was supposed to respond. He'd always thought of Batman-of Bruce-as someone who didn't give much thought to feelings. As someone who didn't really care. _But no,_ the tiny voice in his head whispered, _he took you in, didn't he? He wouldn't have done that if he hadn't… hadn't cared._

Jason shifted somewhat uncomfortably, his eyes drifting back to Bruce.

"Bruce…" he whispered finally. He kept his knees drawn to his chest as tightly as he could possibly manage. "I…" He swallowed thickly, his tongue suddenly feeling swollen and dry. "Can you… can you stay? With me?" _Please. I don't want to be alone._

It felt silly. It felt stupid. But… he needed it. He didn't want to be alone. He didn't want to.

He couldn't, no matter how weak, or silly, or stupid it made him feel.

He didn't want to be alone.

Jason didn't even dare a glance at Bruce, too afraid of what he'd find there to do even that.

Bruce was suddenly at his side again, heavy hand resting gently on his shoulder. Its presence was so impossible to ignore that Jason found himself forced to look up, reluctantly meeting Bruce's eyes.

Instead of holding any of the contempt or disdain that Jason had been expecting, Bruce's eyes hold something akin to sympathy, something Jason did not expect and was not prepared to deal with.

"Always, Jason."

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 **A/N Just a quick little note before I sign out here... I had hoped to be able to do weekly updates for this story, but I'll be having a very busy week starting next Sunday, so I'm unsure if I'll be able to post the third chapter.**

 **Anyways, please review! I'd love to hear what you think!**


	3. Nightmares

**A/N I apologize that this update came a week late, but I spent the past week house-sitting for my grandparents and never had a chance to log on.**

 **I'm hoping to actually be able to do weekly updates for real now that I'm back home and able to spend more time on my writing.**

 **A special thank you to Purplehood and Meritt for all their help and support. You guys are awesome!**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own DC or any associated characters.**

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They were falling.

Falling again.

And there was nothing he could do to stop it.

Dick watched helplessly as his parents began their act, oblivious to the danger that he himself was so acutely aware of.

"Mom! Dad! No!" He called out to them, reaching to them. He tried to move forward, go to them, but his legs were frozen in place.

He wasn't going anywhere.

"Mom!" he shouted one more time. "Dad!"

If he could get their attention, make them realize there was something wrong, _maybe they wouldn't have to die._

But his parents continued. They didn't realize what he was trying to tell them, didn't know that the wire was cut, that it was going to break. It was going to break.

It was going to break while they were still up there.

It was going to break with them on it.

"No," he whispered, shaking his head, the tears beginning to form.

He couldn't see this again.

He couldn't watch his parents die.

Yet he couldn't look away.

Dick was trapped there, transfixed by the single, most horrific event in his life.

No.

No!

 _No!_

The rope snapped, beginning as just a fraying cut, before completely severing and sending his family plunging into darkness.

It was happening.

And he couldn't stop it.

He couldn't stop it from happening.

He watched his mother's smile freeze as her expression changed to one of shock.

The horror dawning in his father's eyes as he realized what had happened.

And for a moment, it seemed, time had stopped.

"Dick," his mother gasped, her hands seeming to reach out for him.

And then they fell.

They fell and his own screams rang far louder than those of the crowd below them.

He collapsed to his knees, hands gripping his hair as he curled in on himself.

The noise from the crowd below ceased as he lost himself in a wave of anguish.

No, no, no, no.

His parents were dead.

Gone.

Shattered.

Broken.

No, no, no, no.

It became like a chant.

No, no, no, no.

 _Bad son_.

Dick's head snapped up, eyes wide.

What?

 _Bad son._

 _You didn't fall with us._

 _We're supposed to be a family._

 _Why didn't you join us?_

His parents' voices.

He felt his body beginning to tremble.

 _Bad son._

He shook his head frantically, trying to rid himself of the voices.

No.

His parents would never say that.

They would never think something like that.

No.

No.

"No!"

Dick shot up in bed with a cry of horror. Panting, he took in his surroundings, his eyes darting rapidly around the dark room.

He was shaking. His hair was damp with sweat.

He could still see them.

Still see them lying on the ground far, far below him. His breathing escalated and he hurriedly closed his eyes to shut out the images.

It didn't work.

Dick wrapped his arms around himself and breathed.

It was just a dream.

Just a dream.

He lay back down, resting his head on the pillow, trying to force the images far from his mind.

 _Bad son._

The words echoed back through his mind and he shuddered, unable to fall back asleep.

Was he?

Should he have fallen with them?

If he had, maybe they would still be a family.

Just dead.

Dick rolled over onto his side and stared into the darkness, feeling the tears begin to gather in his eyes.

He wiped at them with the back of his pajama sleeve and realized he wasn't going to be falling asleep anytime soon.

He rubbed a hand over his face, sitting up and swinging his legs over the side of the bed. The tip of his toes met the carpeted floor and he slid out of bed, the soles of his feet sinking deep into the carpet.

He opened the door to the hallway and peered outside. It was dark, the moonlight seeping in between the window drapes and casting shadows across the floor.

Slowly, he pushed the door open all the way and stepped out into the hall. Jason's room was across the hall from his, door closed as always.

The Manor was seemingly encased in total silence and Dick ventured further into the hall, until he had finally reached the top of the grand staircase.

If there was anyone who could be counted on to still be up and ready to lend a sympathetic ear at this hour, it was Alfred. A good portion of his earlier nights at the Manor had been spent with a plate of Alfred's cookies while the kindly butler offered his support after a particularly vivid nightmare.

He stopped on the first step of the grand staircase. The grandfather clock's ticking sounded unnaturally loud in comparison to the silence encasing the rest of the manor, but that wasn't the only sound.

Dick frowned.

It was only a faint murmur, barely discernable, but there were _voices_ downstairs. That meant someone else was in the kitchen with Alfred…

It was still early (and the term "early" was used loosely, given the time) enough that Bruce would still be out on patrol, but he was away on a business trip…

Dick wrinkled his forehead. He couldn't remember the location exactly, but it was overseas.

The only other person was… Jason, and… Jason slept the night through… except… except on those nights when he was sneaking out his window.

Dick sighed, shaking his head and finished the trip down the staircase.

The light was on in the kitchen area, casting a warm, yellow glow into the adjoining rooms.

"Um, hello?" Dick approached slowly. "Alfred?" He poked his head around the corner… and stared,

Jason stared back at him, seated at the table, hand holding one of Alfred's famous chocolate chip cookies, half-eaten, eyes wide with surprise.

Dick stepped fully into the room. "Jason?"

"Nightmares, I presume, Master Richard?" Alfred stepped away from the refrigerator with a pitcher of milk.

"Uh… yeah?" He felt like he shouldn't be admitting that in front of Jason. As if it would somehow destroy whatever image of an older brother Jason had decided Dick was, but it was too late… or early, technically it was early, for him to try and invent a lie and he knew Alfred, and probably Jason too, would see right through it.

He could still see it.

The rope.

His parents.

The blood.

Dick swallowed, feeling frozen in place.

"Won't you sit down and join us, Master Richard?" Alfred pressed and Dick's eyes snapped away from the wall, meeting Alfred's. "Master Jason and I were just sitting down."

Dick shook his head to clear it, accepting Alfred's invitation and pulling out a chair, sitting down across from Jason. "Yeah, that would be great… thanks. So, uh, how about you? Late night book club with Alfie?"

Jason scowled at him. "No."

"Master Jason is here for the same reason you are, young sir," Alfred stated, and Dick suddenly found a glass of milk and a cookie placed in front of him, before Alfred was also seated at the table.

"Nightmare?" Dick looked back at Jason questioningly, but the boy's frown deepened as he stared into his glass of milk.

Jason had never mentioned nightmares before, but now that he thought about it, he realized that he really had no idea of what his little brother had gone through on the streets. Gotham had a nasty habit of destroying the people unlucky enough to end up living on her streets… and even some of the ones who didn't.

"There is no shame in talking about it," Alfred reminded him. Jason's hand tightened around the glass, before he finally looked up, looking first to Alfred, then Dick.

"Yeah."

Dick nodded. "Yeah, me too." Absently, he took a bite out of his cookie… they still tasted like heaven, and angled a glance at the butler. "You still make world-class cookies, Alfred."

Alfred merely nodded, looking satisfied. "A fact you have kept me well-informed of, Master Richard… but you had mentioned nightmares."

 _His parents._

 _Broken._

 _Bloody._

Dick nodded slowly, swallowing thickly, and painfully aware that he had all of Jason's attention on him now.

And he doesn't want to say it. He doesn't want to have to say it in front of Jason., but he knew that Alfred's words from before were meant for the two of them. "It's the same thing," he said, lowering his voice. He clasped his hands on the table in front of him and shifted his shoulders uncomfortably. "They don't come every night. It's been a long time since the last one actually, but… It's that night. I see them fall and there's nothing I can do to stop it."

Dick raised his head, allowing his gaze to slide over to Jason and was surprised to see the younger boy looking at him with something akin to… understanding.

The moment they made eye contact, though, Jason glanced away, glaring at his lap instead.

Dick sighed, the brief connection broken, and felt Alfred's hand on his shoulder. "I hope you know, Master Richard, that what happened that night wasn't your fault."

"I…yeah… I know that now, but sometimes… you just wonder if there was something, _anything_ , I could have done to stop it."

"So…" Dick was surprised to hear Jason speak and turned his attention once more to the younger boy. Jason looked at him intently, brow furrowed as he scrutinized him. "…it never goes away, does it?" Without waiting for an answer, he stood up, pushing the chair back, frowning. "I'm going to go back to bed."

"Master Jason…"

"Jay…" Dick started, but Jason was already gone from the room. Dick stood up, glancing at Alfred. "Maybe I should…" he inclined his head after Jason, "…go talk to him? Unless you think he'd rather see you?"

Alfred, already clearing away the dishes from the table, cast a glance in the boy's direction. "Perhaps, Master Richard, he would benefit most from speaking to his brother."

"Right…" Dick turned his head to look once more at the doorway. "I'll go see about doing that."

"Indeed, Master Richard."

XX

Dick knocked on the door, closed again as usual. "Uh… Jason?" There was no answer from within and Dick contemplated just pushing the door open and entering, but he didn't think Jason would appreciate that.

"Hello?"

Maybe he was asleep.

If he was asleep, then Dick really shouldn't disturb him.

Really, this was more awkward then it should be.

He sighed, trying a different tactic. "Okay, look, I know you're in there and I know you're awake. Jason? Can you hear me? I'm coming in."

The doorknob offered no resistance, turning easily in his hand. Jason never locked his door as far as he knew.

None of them did.

Except for Bruce, maybe, but that was because he was, well, Bruce.

Dick pushed the door open slowly and was struck with the sudden fear that, maybe, Jason wasn't even in his room.

If he had left again, Dick wasn't quite sure that he would be able to fathom _why_ , but he still remembered the last time and it was all he could do not to barrel into the room.

To his infinite relief, the window was closed, though the curtains were drawn back. Jason never had them closed, preferring to let the moonlight in.

Said moonlight was currently casting enough light for him to make out the lump curled underneath the bedsheets and he breathed an involuntary sigh of relief.

He wasn't sure exactly _what_ he would have done if Jason had flown the coop once more, for whatever reason, but he knew that without Bruce here, he'd have a hell of a lot more difficulty tracking him down on his own.

"Jay?" Dick entered the room, leaving the door open behind him.

The figure under the blanket stirred, uncovering his face.

"Dick?" He was confused, but at least he wasn't angry. Yet. "What are you doing in here?"

"Seeing if you're okay," Dick answered, stepping closer. He took Jason's silence as an opportunity to take a seat next to Jason's bed. "You kind of took off on me and Alfred."

Jason shifted, pulling the covers tighter around him and stared at Dick. "Yeah?"

"And we wanted to know if you were okay," Dick repeated.

"I'm fine," Jason grumbled, rolling over to face the window.

"You're not… angry are you?" Dick leaned forward. Jason didn't answer and Dick wondered if he was so fed up with the intrusion that he was going to give him the cold shoulder for the remainder of his time spent in Jason's bedroom.

Dick sighed, leaning back in the chair. A small part of him wanted to leave, give Jason the solitude he was probably craving right about now, but the rest of him wasn't about to be gotten rid of that easily. "Alfred said you had nightmares…" He stopped briefly, waiting for Jason's reaction. "I get if you don't want to talk about them," he hurried on, "but I get them too. You've already figured out that you can go to Alfred, but… I just want you to know that you can talk to me too."

There was a moment of silence.

Finally, when Dick was sure Jason wasn't going to acknowledge his presence again, "Dick?"

Dick's eyes snapped up to Jason's face. "Yeah?"

"You… you had nightmares too?"

 _They were falling…_

Dick shut his eyes against the image that tried to force its way to the forefront of his mind.

"Yeah," he answered honestly. "You too, huh?"

Jason nodded. "Do they… do they ever go away?" he asked softly.

They never did, he realized, if he were being honest with himself.

"No, not really," he answered, "but it's not always as bad."

There was a long pause as Jason took that in.

"I didn't dream about them," Jason said finally. His voice was so quiet that Dick had trouble hearing him.

"What?" Dick asked, confused.

"My parents," Jason clarified. "I… I don't dream about them." There was an uncomfortable silence as Dick wondered what he was supposed to say to that and Jason seemed to wonder if he had said the wrong thing.

Dick swallowed, not sure if he should press for more information.

He made his decision.

"The… streets?"

Jason was quiet for a long moment, before nodding slowly.

Something constricted painfully in Dick's chest at that.

"You don't want to talk about it… do you?" It wasn't really a question. Somehow, Dick already knew what the answer would be.

Sure enough, Jason shook his head, withdrawing further under his covers.

Then, "Do you think Bruce still gets them? About his parents?"

"I… don't know," he said, speaking slowly. "He's never said." It was weird to think of Bruce, of the _Batman_ , having nightmares, or even being afraid. "I don't think he'd want to talk about it, but…" Dick shared a glance with Jason.

Jason sat up suddenly, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Think he goes to Alfred when he wakes up?"

Dick couldn't help but smile along with him. "Probably." Actually, he found himself snickering at the idea. "He probably has cookies and milk once a month at least."

"We should try to catch him someday."

Dick laughed outright at that. "Yeah, you know what? We totally should."

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 **A/N So I have since discovered that this theme has (not surprisingly) been done before, but I was attached to this chapter and didn't want to change/get rid of it, and I sincerely hope that your enjoyment of this chapter was not lessened in any way.  
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 **And while the past two updates have had more of a darker theme, the next few will be happier, more humorous. At the very least, that was what I was going for.  
**

 **As always, I'd love to hear what you think! Reviews are always appreciated!**


	4. Winter Wonderland

**A/N As always, a special thanks to Purplehood and Meritt for their support.**

 **I also want to thank those who have taken the time to read/review/favorite/follow this story. You guys are awesome. :)**

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Jason pressed his face up against the windowpane. Dick pressed his face up next to his.

Snow covered the ground around Wayne Manor, a crystal white blanket over everything as far as the eye could see.

Jason didn't think he'd ever seen this much snow before in his life.

"It's… _everywhere_ ," he whispered, awestruck.

"Kinda what snow does, Little Wing," Dick whispered back. "It gets on everything."

"Don't call me that!" Jason shot back quickly, but his voice lacked any real conviction. He fell silent for a moment, keep his face pressed against the glass. "Should… should we go out?" he asked, returning to the subject of snow.

"Yeah," Dick answered, "yeah we should." He laughed a little. "Seems like it would be a shame to ruin it, though, doesn't it?"

Jason nodded wordlessly, eyes still glued to the frost covered ground outside, before he grinned at Dick. "Yeah… but I could still kick your butt in a snowball fight."

"Really?" Dick took mock offense. "You want to put that theory to the test?"

"Jason? Dick?" Bruce's voice interrupted them a moment before their guardian entered the room. "Someone's here to see you boys."

Dick and Jason exchanged confused looks, but before either one could speak up, someone followed Bruce into the room.

"Hey guys!" Barbara Gordon greeted them, two books clutched down by her side as she entered the room, clearly unsurprised by the two of them leaning against the windowsill.

Silently, Bruce left the room, leaving the three of them alone. His departure went unnoticed.

"Babs?" Dick quickly climbed to his feet, followed suit by Jason, and feeling a little sheepish at having been caught at the window like this.

"Dreaming of a white Christmas, huh?" Barbara asked, eyebrow quirked as she gave them both an amused grin.

"Not dreaming anymore, Babs." Dick jerked his head indicating the outside. "It's past that point."

"Yeah, I noticed." Barbara laughed, holding up a book as she did so. "I brought you that book you said you needed for your literature class, Dick. _Ballad of the White Horse_ , right? Dad wanted to see Bruce for something, so I just tagged along."

Dick grinned, taking the book from her outstretched hand. "Thanks, Babs."

"So," Barbara looked from them to the window and back to them again, "what were you guys up to? Besides smudging up Alfred's perfect windows, that is?"

"We were just discussing how I was gonna bury Dick's butt in a snowball fight." Jason flashed Dick a wicked smile. "Wanna join in?"

Dick sputtered indignantly. "What? No! You can't just turn her against me! That's not fair!"

"You against the two of us, Dick? You don't think you'd stand a chance?" Barbara asked innocently, raising her eyebrows.

"Against you guys?" Dick asked. "You think you can beat _me_?" He tapped his chest. "I'm the king of snowball fights."

"Yeah, right," Jason snorted. "Have you ever even _been_ in a snowball fight, Dick?" he asked skeptically.

"Are you _doubting_ me?" Dick asked incredulously. "Of _course_ I've been in a snowball fight, Jason! What kind of childhood is one without snowball fights?"

"A childhood in the desert maybe," Barbara suggested.

"Not many snowball fights in Crime Alley either," Jason said blandly.

"That settles it then. We're having a match. Right now." Dick grabbed Jason's upper arm, prepared to drag him out the door if need be. "Don't you dare say no!"

"Ow!" Jason pulled his arm from Dick's grasp. "I thought you were the one who didn't want to get your butt kicked a minute ago." Jason rubbed his arm, frowning at him.

"And that was before my favorite baby brother announced that he had never been in a snowball fight before. A situation that needs to be rectified. Immediately." He ignored Jason's offended "Hey!" at the words "baby brother" and looked to Barbara for support. "You're with me on this one, right Babs?"

Barbara tilted her head, staring at the both of them. "As unopposed to the idea as I am, I kind of feel the need to point out that I brought no snow clothes. My dad will kill me if I come home soaking wet and end up catching a cold."

Dick waved a hand, completely unconcerned. "So? Just borrow something of ours. Alfred can probably find something for you."

Barbara rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "Of course. You guys have everything, don't you?"

Dick grinned. "You know it," he answered. "All courtesy to Gotham's resident bat. Now… we're going to see Alfred about those snow clothes."

Alfred was more than happy to help, promising hot chocolate when they were finally too cold to stay outside any longer and came in. "I hope you're not planning on staying out there _too_ long," he said, glancing at the three of them. "Wouldn't want to be catching any colds, now would we?"

Alfred rummaged through one of the many old storage closets for a few more minutes before finally emerging with a pair of snow clothes. "Here you are, Miss Gordon," he said, handing them to Barbara. "I'm afraid I can't promise they'll be perfect, but they're what we have at the moment."

"As long as they keep me from getting wet and my dad from killing me," Barbara joked wryly. She took them gratefully. "Thanks, Alfred. You're the best."

"I wouldn't dream of being anything else, Miss Gordon." Alfred answered dryly, though the corner of his mouth gave the faintest hint of a smile.

Jason huffed, impatient and overeager, and Dick nudged him, keeping him quiet, despite the death glare Jason immediately sent his way.

Alfred sent the two of them a disapproving frown. "Perhaps it would be more productive if the two of you prepared yourselves rather than merely gaping in the hallway?" he suggested mildly and Barbara shot them an exasperated look, before leaving to get ready herself.

"At least it fits, right?" Barbara announced ten minutes later, walking in as Jason finished tugging his boots on.

Ace chuffed softly at her from his place at Jason's side, tail thumping eagerly against the floor.

"Finally," Jason groaned, setting his foot down and looking from Dick to Barbara. "Can we go out now?"

Dick gently flicked the back of his head. "Hold your horses, Jay." Irritated, Jason swatted at his hand, and hitting nothing but air as Dick quickly yanked his hand back and climbed to his feet. "We'll go… before Jason kills me and feeds me to the dog." He gestured to the two of them.

Barbara laughed. "As much as I'd like to see that happen, I don't think we're quite ready for you to die yet, Dick."

"Good to know" Dick answered cheerfully. Jason was already on his feet and halfway to the door, Ace more than happy to follow his lead.

He stopped at the door, turning back to frown at them impatiently. "Come on!"

Barbara tilted her head in Jason's direction. "Shouldn't make him wait, should we?" she asked.

Dick shook his head. "No, we shouldn't."

Jason grinned at the two of them. "Barbara and I still get to kick your butt," he declared, before disappearing out the door with Ace at his heels.

"Wait! That's still a thing? We're still doing that?" Dick glanced at Barbara who shrugged.

"Looks that way," she said and smiled. "But I thought you were pretty confident you could beat us, boy wonder. Unless you're suddenly not."

"Not in a million years." Dick tugged one of his gloves tighter around his wrist and grinned at her, his eyes shining. "Let's go… before Jason makes good on that threat."

"What is it with boys and violence?" Barbara followed Dick out the door, cold air hitting her full in the face and she sucked in a quick breath.

Dick trudged forward, eyeing the fresh boot and dog prints in the snow. "Okay, Ja… _oomph!_ " Something cold, wet and hard hit the side of his face mid-sentence and Dick instantly brought a hand to his cheek, whipping around to face the direction from which the projectile had flown. "Ja _son_ ," he finished, wiping the snow from his jaw.

"Barbara!" Jason called, waving to her from his position several yards away. "Get him!"

"What?!" Dick protested, spinning around quickly, prepared to block any attack that coming from Barbara. "You haven't even given me a chance!"

"You wanted this," Dick," Barbara reminded him, raising a handful of snow above her head.

"Not leaving you any choice here, is he?" he said cautiously, backing away slowly. Barbara threw and he dodged, the projectile breaking apart in the snow a few feet away.

Barbara gathered up another handful of snow. "No, I don't think he is," she said, "but I kind of like the odds."

"Two against one? Yeah, that sounds about fair." He laughed, throwing his own snowball and Barbara gasped, bursting out into laughter as snow rained down on her face.

Dick grinned at her triumphantly as she brushed strands of wet hair out of her face. "You've asked for it now, circus boy."

" _Oof!_ " Another ball of snow hit Dick from behind and Jason cheered.

"You're losing, Dick!" he crowed. "Better hurry if you want to catch up!"

"One to two! I've got time!" Dick shouted, brushing the snow from the back of his head. He spun, dodging the next shot that came from Barbara and ran in Jason's direction, scooping up a handful of snow as he went.

Jason turned, fleeing as fast as the snow allowed him to. Ace followed at his heels, gleeful barks mixing together with all of their laughter.

The cold air nipped at his cheeks, stealing his breath from him as he ran. He kept running, laughter filling up in his chest and escaping.

Dick was right behind him, catching up, and behind him Barbara. He could hear them.

His boot caught on a branch, buried and hidden beneath the snow, and he went down. Ace was instantly at his side, nudging him, licking his face and whining, urging him to get up.

Jason gasped out a laugh, struggling to push Ace away from his face. "I'm trying! I'm trying!"

Dick was gaining on him. In a few seconds, it would all be over and he'd be caught.

Jason rolled over, scrambling to his feet, but he was still winded. His balance wasn't what it had been a short while ago.

"Gotcha!" Dick tackled him from behind, the two of them going down and tumbling through the thick snow.

"No!" Jason squirmed, trying to wiggle out of Dick's hold. "No! Let go, Dick!"

"You're not getting away that easily, Jay!" Dick tightened his grip, pulling himself up so that he was resting on the balls of his feet.

Jason kicked out, struggling to free himself. "Let go of me, Dick!" He sputtered as Ace was suddenly upon him, licking his face, and he turned his head away from the onslaught. "Ace!"

"Good boy, Ace!" Dick encouraged, holding Jason still. "You get him, boy!"

Ace whined happily, pawing at Jason's coat.  
"Let go, Dick!" Jason shouted. "Ace, stop! Stop!" He held up his hands, trying to ward of Ace. His breath came out in short, breezy laughs.

"Dick!" Barbara shouted, catching up to them. She grinned, displaying a snowball. "You might want to think about letting go now."

Dick spun around on his heels, getting Jason between the two of them. "No, not this, Dick," Jason pleaded in between giggles.

"Too late, Jason." Dick held a handful of snow over the back of Jason's winter coat. "I'll do it," he warned, his tone making it hard to take him seriously.

"Like hell you will!" Jason gasped. "Dick, let go!"  
Barbara stood where she was, snowball raised above her head.

"Dick!" Jason whined.

"Using Jason now? A little underhanded, don't you think?" Barbara asked, holding her position.

Dick shrugged, but his eyes sparkled. "Whatever's necessary, right?"

"Dick!" Jason said again, pulling harder against him.

Ace barked, running circles around the two of them, and Jason squirmed harder, finally wriggling his way out of Dick's grasp.

"Ha!" Jason darted away, before stopping at a short, but safe distance away. Dick jumped to his feet quickly as Jason suddenly lunged for it. At the same moment, Barbara let her snowball fly and it met Jason head on, crashing into the side of his head.

"Hey, ow! Barbara! You're supposed to be on my side!" Jason cried, rubbing the side of his head, as Dick cackled, dodging aside when Jason swiped at him.

Jason made a face at him. Dick could be so annoying anyway.

"Oh my gosh! Sorry!" Barbara called out, rushing forward. "I'm sorry!"

Jason frowned at her, still rubbing his head, but let it go. After all, they did have one very annoying former circus acrobat to catch.

He gathered a handful of snow, rolling it into a tightly packed ball, flinging it after Dick. The snowball met its mark, exploding into a flurry and showering the ground… and Dick's jacket… with a heap of powdery snow.

"Gotcha!" Jason tossed his hands in the air and whooped, triumph written all over his features.

"You haven't beaten me yet!" Dick hurled his own snowball, catching Jason in the shoulder. "Got _you!"_ he cheered, victorious for the moment as he formed another snowball.

"Oh, yeah?" Belatedly, Dick realized he had forgotten Barbara as someone crashed into his side, knocking him into the snow. "Take that, Boy Wonder!" She stood grinning above him, fists raised as if she were ready to fight. More than likely, she was.

Without missing a beat, Dick smirked at her, before he swept her legs out from under her and, with a small gasp, she landed flat on her back in the snow.

Dick made a move to leap to his feet, but, before he could, arms wrapped around his neck and shoulders and Jason launched a full-scale attack from behind.

"Hey!" Feeling both amused and slightly alarmed at the turn of events, Dick attempted to shake him off, but he had to give the boy credit.

Jason really knew how to hang on.

"I got him, Babs!" Jason shouted, wrestling to keep his hold on his older brother. "I got him!"

"Really?" Dick challenged. Cripes, the kid really knew how to hang on, but with one final twist, he was able to break free of Jason's hold. He jumped away as gracefully as the deep snow allowed him to. "Because I don't think you do."

A snowball crashed into the side of his head. "Ow! Hey!" Barbara smirked and shrugged at him.

"Gotcha."

She tilted her head, red hair spilling out from under her hat in a wild tangle and hanging loosely over her shoulder.

"And there are plenty more where that one came from." She tossed a second snowball into the air, catching it in the palm of her hand.

With a battle cry, Jason had suddenly launched himself at Dick from behind once again, taking the acrobat by surprise and knocking him to the ground.

"Jason!" Dick sputtered through a mouthful of snow as Jason straddled his back, buffeting his head and shoulders with handfuls of loosely packed snow. "Jason!"

Dick grabbed hold of Jason's wrists and with one quick twist, reversed their positions. Jason had not been maintaining nearly as tight a grip as he had been before.

Jason squirmed, his wrists still trapped in Dick's firm grip. "Get. Off. Me. Circus Brat!" he ground out between clenched teeth.

"Circus Brat, huh?" Dick was probably enjoying this far too much, but it wasn't like he could help it. "I don't think so. Not unless you say 'please' anyway."

"Not on your life, Dick!" Jason made another attempt to throw him off, but Dick had every advantage here, being the stronger and heavier of the two.

Unable to do anything else, Jason glared silently up at him, lips pressed into a very thin line. Dick smiled innocently. "Surrender?"

"Never!" Jason cried. He bucked, trying once again to throw Dick's weight off of him. Frustrated, he grit his teeth, mouth dipping all the way into a frown as he studied him, trying to find a weak link.

A way to break through and out.

"Dick!" Barbara pelted him from behind, the snow shattering at the base of Dick's skull and showering over Jason's face.

Jason gasped, coughing violently, twisting his head to the side, and shaking the snow from his face.

Barbara stood back, unwilling to interfere quite yet. The two of them tumbling in the snow, combined with Ace running circles, yapping his head off, was a sight worth watching. She wasn't sure that she should interfere quite yet.

Maybe when things got out of hand, but not yet.

She smiled, thoroughly amused by the whole thing.

Jason was laughing now. It looked like Dick was tickling him. Is that what this had escalated to? A tickle fight?

It sure looked like it.

"Dick, stop! Stop!" Jason sounded breathless, words gasped out at intervals between bouts of giddy laughter. "Stop!"

Okay, maybe now was the time to intervene.

Barbara moved swiftly. They'd forgotten all about her, wrapped up as they were in their little squabble, which made it easy to catch them off guard.

Barbara felt a thrill of satisfaction as she wrapped her arms around Dick's shoulders, dragging him down so that they both toppled into the snow.

For a moment, all either of them can do is lie there side by side, and Barbara felt a rush of exhilaration tickling her insides as her own laughter mingled with Dick's. Nothing but sheer joy as the wind nipped her cheeks and tried hard to blow her hair in every which way.

Then, they were scrambling to their feet, struggling to regain their bearings.

It was Dick who succeeded first. Figured, seeing as he was the born acrobat. No amount of Gymnastics or martial arts classes would ever have Barbara equaling that.

Jason was already on his feet. His cheeks have already turned pink and the snow has plastered his bangs to his forehead.

It was the same with Dick and she knew that if she looked in a mirror at that moment, she'd find that she was the same too.

They were a mess all right, but they were a big, happy, laughing mess at that.

Barbara wouldn't trade that for all the hot chocolate in the world right now.

It was then that the wind carried the sound of Alfred's voice to them, calling them back to the Manor. It was high time they returned, it would seem, and Jason, out of the three of them, looked none too pleased with this turn of events.

"Already?" he whined. Ace rubbed up against his leg, giving him a whine that is almost sure to mean that he agreed with Alfred. "I was this close," he held up two fingers to emphasize his point, "this close to kicking your butt, Dick!"

Dick snorted, trying valiantly to hide his amused look and failing miserably. "Whatever you say, Jason." He rolled his eyes, but couldn't resist reaching out to ruffle the boy's hair.

Jason stepped out of reach, tugging his hat tighter around his head as he shot a very indignant frown Dick's way. "I'm not three, Dick," he muttered, glowering darkly.

Dick shrugged his shoulders, glancing sideways at his brother. "Are you sure?"

Barbara quickly stepped between them before a brawl could break out again. "Okay, enough. Both of you." She held her hands out, preventing Jason from making an attempt to get past her. "Enough!"

Jason stopped where he was, frowning up at her before wrinkling his nose and making a face at Dick.

Barbara rolled her eyes, giving Jason a little push in the direction of the Manor as Alfred called out again. Something about hot chocolate getting cold.

She hadn't been paying that much attention if she were honest.

"Hear that?" Dick said, looking alarmed. "It's getting cold! The hot chocolate's getting cold!"

"Race you!" he shouted over his shoulder, before he took off at a run in the direction of the Manor.

Barbara and Jason took a moment, glancing at each other quickly. Then they were off, both fighting to keep ahead of the other, Jason hollering as they ran.

"Dick, no fair! You had a head start!"

The only answer was Dick's resounding cackle.

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 **A/N My first attempt at writing Barbara. I'm hoping to have more of her later on, both in this collection here and in several other stories I've got planned, but not written.**

 **I wrote this chapter back when there was still snow on the ground, lol. I didn't know I would publish it a few weeks before the first official day of summer.**

 **Anyways, see you in 1-2 weeks with an update! Please review and let me know what you think!**


	5. Hanging Around

**A/N Well, a little longer than a week, but not quite two weeks either. That's acceptable, right?**

 **Anyways, as always, a very big thank you to all my readers and an especially important shout out to Purplehood and Meritt for all their help and support in this story. I don't think this story would have progressed any further than chapter one without them.  
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He heard the voices as soon as he was out of the Cave, the old grandfather clock shutting on its own behind him.

"Dick!" That would be Jason.

Hearing Jason shouting at his older brother on an almost daily basis was not an unusual occurrence.

It was, however, the slightly panicked tone in Jason's voice that had Bruce feeling alarmed.

"Don't let go! Don't let go!" That was Dick.

Whatever the two of them were doing, their voices were coming from the front sitting room.

He hurried in that direction.

"DICK! I can't get down!" There was no mistaking the clear-cut panic in Jason's voice.

Bruce broke into a run, unable to deny the sudden pang of worry.

"What's going on here?" He burst into the room, almost immediately feeling his jaw drop in shock at the sight that greeted him.

While Dick was safely planted on the floor, Jason dangled above them. Several yards above them, to be exact, clinging for dear life to the priceless, crystal chandelier that had been his mother's favorite.

He didn't miss the matching looks of shock and pure terror that flashed across both boys' faces upon his entrance.

"Dick dared me to!" Jason shouted almost immediately, before Bruce had a chance to do more than open his mouth.

Dick held up his hands in surrender. "I didn't think he'd actually _do_ it!" he protested.

"Did you think I wasn't going to _try_?" Jason shouted furiously from above them.

Bruce held out a hand to silence them. "Enough!" he ordered, shutting the two of them up with a glare. He rubbed hard at the tension in his forehead. Deep breaths. As much as he wanted to, exploding was not going to help the situation.

Still…

When he raised his head next, he couldn't refrain from glaring at the two of them. "What. Were. You. Thinking?" he demanded.

"I told you!" Jason shouted. "It's his fault!"

"Hey-!"

"I don't care _what_ Dick told you to do. You still climbed up there when you knew, you _knew_ , you weren't supposed to."

The chandelier spun nauseatingly, the movement initiated by Jason's sudden shift of position. Bruce felt his heart lurch in his throat as the boy's eyes went wide and he yelped, clinging harder to the chain holding the chandelier up.

His heart was beating faster than he'd like to admit and he swallowed. "Jason," he said carefully, forgetting the anger, forgetting Dick, forgetting everything but getting Jason down from that chandelier in one piece, "I need you to come down now." He spoke slowly, for his own sanity's sake, if not for Jason's.

If possible, Jason's eyes grow even wider as he stares at Bruce. "I… no way! Bruce, I can't get down!"

"Yes, you can." Bruce struggled to keep his breathing even. "How did you get up there in the first place?"

Jason's eyes slid to the staircase's railing, before returning his gaze to Bruce.

Bruce followed his gaze and let out a long sigh. "Jason…" He rubbed two fingers against his temple, kneading at the growing tension.

Somehow, he'd managed to make the jump from the banister to the chandelier. The kid was more resourceful then he often got credit for.

"Okay, Jason," he said, forcing himself to sound calmer than he felt. _Breathe. Just breathe._ "I'm going to help you down, okay?"

Jason bit his bottom lip, studying him for a brief moment, before nodding quickly. He still looked a little unsure, but Bruce was going to take whatever he can get.

"Okay, good." Bruce scanned the room, trying to decide what might be of use. He hadn't planned for situations like this. That was going to have to change though.

Right after he got Jason down from there and then grounded him and Dick for life.

His eyes landed on the railing on the second floor, which, if he wasn't wrong, Jason had used to make the leap to the chandelier.

Bruce judged the distance, a plan already forming in his head.

"Okay, Jason…" He took a deep breath. "We're going to get you down, but I need you to trust me…"

Jason's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Why? What're…?"

Bruce shushed him with a wave of his hand. He darted up the stairs, taking the steps two at a time.

Reaching the top, he leaned over the railing, glancing downward and swallowed. It was a long way down.

Bruce couldn't screw this up.

Taking a deep breath, he faced Jason again.

The boy's eyes were wide, unsure.

He'd guessed what the plan was.

"Jason," Bruce said, his voice calm, betraying none of what he was feeling underneath. He paused, seriously considering what he was about to say. "I'm going to need you to jump. I'll catch you."

If possible, Jason's eyes got even wider. "Are you _serious?"_

Below, Dick stared up at the two of them, sucking in a breath. " Uh…Bruce? Are you sure that's a good idea?" he asked.

Bruce ignored the questions. "Dick… can you move the couch? Get it underneath the chandelier? If Jason falls… at least he'll have something to land on."

"You think I'm going to _fall_?" Jason cried, horrified, as Dick began moving furniture below them.

"No," Bruce said, through gritted teeth, "but if you do, wouldn't you rather hit the couch instead of the floor?"

Jason muttered something unintelligible, his hands gripping the chain holding the chandelier and Bruce let out a long sigh. "Think of it as part of your training, Jason." That, at least, should get the boy eager enough to forget about his misgivings and trust him.

The couch was now directly underneath them. If Jason fell, it likely still wouldn't be pleasant, but he wouldn't break anything.

"Okay, Jason," Bruce held out his hands, leaning over the railing, "I need you to jump." _Please trust me, Jason._

And Jason did.

Bruce could see the uncertainty and, finally, the bold determination that played across the boy's face in quick succession.

Slowly, Jason loosened his grip on the chain, steeling himself.

For a moment, Jason took in the empty space between himself and Bruce.

Then, he took a deep breath and jumped.

Bruce stretched his hands out, ready to grab Jason once he was in reach.

Their fingers brushed against each other, but Bruce's hands closed on thin air.

Jason had mistimed the leap.

He wasn't going to make it.

He was falling.

"NO!" Bruce threw himself forward just as Jason dropped with a small gasp. His hands closed around Jason's thin wrists, preventing the boy's descent from continuing any further.

Bruce exhaled shakily, tightening his grasp on the boy's wrists as he slowly began hoisting him back up.

He could have laughed at the shocked expression still frozen on Jason's face, but his own heart was still stuttering too much for him to even consider it.

"Bruce," Jason pleaded, reminding Bruce of the situation still at hand. Releasing a breath he hadn't even known he was holding, Bruce heaved him up, until Jason was able to get a grip of his own on the banister. Even then, he kept a firm grasp on the boy, dragging him up and over.

Jason collapsed against his chest, and Bruce wrapped his arms around him, holding him tight and allowing them both a moment to calm down.

Dick was already at the top of the stairs, having sprinted up the moment Jason was safely over the railing.

Bruce's eyes slid over to meet those of his eldest. "I… he…" Dick gasped out, looking from one to the other. He let out a huge breath, grasping onto the railing for support.

Then, slowly, he looked up, managing a half-smile, that was in part guilty and in part relieved.

Bruce frowned at him, feeling a good portion of his insides deflate as he did so.

Everything was okay. No one was hurt. Nothing was broken.

Everything was okay.

But that didn't mean he was happy with either one of them.

The throbbing in his temple returned with a vengeance, but he ignored it, frown deepening.

"What," he began, struggling to keep his voice even, "did the two of you think you were doing?"

Instantly, Jason took a step back and he and Dick guiltily shared mirrored expressions.

"Dick dared me?" Jason tried, but most of the passion was gone from his voice.

Bruce groaned, significantly calmer than he would have expected and ignoring the brief protest that came from his eldest. "Regardless of what Dick did or didn't 'dare' you to do, you're responsible for your own actions. You're not allowed to "

Jason looked horrified. "But it's a _dare,_ Bruce! You don't just… not do a dare!"

Bruce sighed heavily. "Jason…"

"But you don't!" Jason protested. He turned to Dick, looking to him for support, and Bruce found his attention turning to the older boy as well.

"So you dared him to climb up there?" Bruce asked for clarification, raising an eyebrow in his eldest son's direction. The humor in the situation was… undeniable, but he forced himself to remain serious. Any discipline he decided to dish out would not be taken seriously should he not.

Dick shifted uncomfortably, not quite meeting Bruce's eyes. "We were playing a game," he said, looking Bruce in the eyes after what seemed like a long a moment.

If possible, Bruce's eyebrow climbed even higher. "And what part of this game involved you daring Jason to climb the chandelier?" With his peripheral vision, he could make out Jason standing off to the side, his arms crossed, glaring at the floor.

Dick shrugged, offering a small smile. "Uh… when he said he could do it just as well as I could? That part?"

"So you _dared_ him to climb up there?"

"Like I said, I didn't think he'd actually do it…"

"Just because _you're_ the circus brat…!" Jason began, but Bruce cut him off with a stern, "Enough!" and Jason quieted down with a huff and Bruce glared at the two of them. "Both of you. Enough."

"But I didn't…" Dick shut up at a glance from Bruce.

"What am I going to do with you two?" he muttered.

"Uh… _not_ ground us?" Jason asked hopefully.

Bruce glared at him, not amused. Then, slowly, he allowed a smile to take over his features. "Okay, then." He paused. "Extra chores for a week it is then."

"What?" Both Dick and Jason gaped at him in horror. " _Two_ weeks?"

"You're lucky it's not three weeks," Bruce deadpanned, looking at the two of them pointedly. "And it's that, or you're banned from the Cave for the same amount of time."

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 **A/N Soooo, I'm actually not sure when I'll be able to get the next update out. Chapter six only has a little bit more to go, but is still not complete. Real life has been a real pain in the posterior. :p So pretty much, I don't know when I'll have the chance to write or post. It shouldn't be too long of a wait though!  
**

 **Anyways (I really say that word too much, don't I?), thank you for reading and please review and let me know what you think! :D**


	6. An Unexpected (and Unwelcome!) Guest

A/N Hello, everybody! I apologize again for the very, very long delay, but the computer I'm stuck with right now will not allow me to log into my fanfiction account, which means I have to go to the library in order to publish new chapters. Unfortunately, I haven't been able to make it to the library lately, which also means late updates.

It's starting to look like weekly updates are just wishful thinking on my part. :/

And as always, a big thanks to Purplehood and Meritt for being encouraging, supportive and all kinds of awesome. And a big thank you to all my reviewers/readers/followers/favoriters… Is that last one a word? Probably not… Anyways, you guys seriously rock!

Also, Meritt just posted an awesome Batman one-shot. It's called Return to Wayne Manor and if Dick and Jason brother fics are your thing, it's totally worth checking out! : D And, while most people reading these probably aren't in the Voltron fandom (but you might be! Who knows?), I'm still going to direct those of you who like a good angsty, hurt/comfort story towards Purplehood's fic Out Like a Flame.

And now… The moment we've all been waiting for! Chapter six!

…

Okay, I lied… I just have a few more things to say! I promise!

Chapter six is the result of a prompt from both Purplehood and Meritt… I'm not going to say what the prompt was because that would give away the chapter… ;)

Also, Dick seems to have stolen the narrative for now… I have no idea how that happened, but the next few chapters will be told from his POV.

Okay, so now… ON WITH THE FIC!

 **Chapter Six:** An Uninvited (and unwelcome!) Guest

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Dick hadn't seen Jason all day.

On a _normal_ day, that usually meant Jason was up to no good, planning out some sort of prank or a way to get back at Dick, but today?

There hadn't been a _single_ peep out of him.

Dick took that as a bad sign.

Bruce was in his study… it was probably best not to disturb him and it was unlikely anyways that Jason would have been in there.

That left Alfred, currently in the kitchen and preparing a meal that made Dick's mouth water just to look at it. Not to mention the smell.

But he had a mission, one that not even Alfred's cooking could interrupt.

Unfortunately, Alfred had not seen Jason either.

That meant Dick had too options: he could scour the _very_ extensive grounds of the Manor or he could check Jason's bedroom.

He opted for the bedroom.

That, at the very least, wouldn't take long.

Jason's door was open only a crack and Dick nudged it the rest of the way with his foot, expecting at any second to have a furious Jason demanding why he was barging into his room without reason.

There was nothing.

That was… odd. Unless Jason wasn't actually in his room…

Having taken one step into the room, Dick stopped short.

Jason was sitting cross-legged on the floor. He was facing away from Dick, seemingly deeply involved in whatever it was he was doing, which explained the lack of a response.

"You're gonna be all right…"

At the sound of his brother's soft voice, Dick jerked his head up sharply. Was Jason… talking to somebody?

Something?

There was no one in the room, aside from the two of them.

Although… he noticed something on the floor directly in front of Jason.

What was he doing with a cat carrier?

"Jason?" Dick questioned, taking care that to keep his voice soft. He didn't know what Jason was doing, but he didn't want to startle him.

It didn't work.

Jason started, spinning around, his expression an odd mix of surprised, angry and embarrassed.

"Dick?" he gasped. He seemed to be about to say more, but, before he could, a gray blur suddenly zipped around him.

"No!" Jason cried, lunging forward. His hands closed on nothing but air. "Peanut!"

Dick jumped back. Was that… was that a _squirrel?_

Why did Jason have a _squirrel_?

The squirrel dodged around Jason, avoiding his every attempt to grab it.

"Dick!" Jason shouted, snapping Dick right out of his stupor.

The squirrel was darting around the room, looking every bit like a streak of gray lighting.

Dick wasn't sure exactly _what_ Jason wanted him to do, but… As soon as the squirrel was close, he jumped for it, but inevitably wound up empty-handed.

"Dick! The door!"

To his horror, Dick realized he had left the door to Jason's bedroom wide open. He scrambled to regain his footing, but the squirrel was faster.

It weaved through his legs, getting around him before he could do anything to stop it, and disappeared out the door.

"No!" Jason shouted. "No, no, no!" He turned on Dick. "You let him get away!"

"Me?" Dick asked indignantly. "What the heck were you doing with a squirrel in your room?"

"He was hurt!" Jason defended himself. He ran past Dick, into the hallway. "I was trying to help him!" He was suddenly facing Dick, looking completely panicked. "He's loose in the Manor! We have to catch him before Bruce or Alfred finds him!"

"You mean before the squirrel finds them, don't you?" Dick corrected wryly.

Jason glared at him. "That's not funny."

Dick held up his hands. "Okay, okay. Bruce is in his study though. I don't think the squirrel…"

" _Peanut!"_

Dick gave him a funny look. "I don't think _Peanut_ ," he corrected, "will be able to get in there." Meaning they didn't have to worry about Bruce as long as he stayed where he was. And he probably would, seeing as he had a tendency to not let himself get distracted from his work.

Alfred was another story.

"Alfred's… in the kitchen." He shared a glance with Jason.

"What if Peanut gets in the kitchen?" Jason asked, eyes going wide. "Alfred will kill us!"

Dick found himself wondering what exactly had possessed his brother into naming a _squirrel,_ of all things, Peanut, but there would be time for that later.

First, though, they had to find the squirrel.

And finding a squirrel in a house this big would be no simple task.

"Split up!" Dick told Jason quickly. "I'll take down the stairs and you take up here," he directed, taking off down the stairs without waiting to see if Jason was willing to go along with his plan.

"But…!"

"Just do it!" he shouted up the stairs.

Distantly, he heard Jason's running footsteps as the boy took off, maybe even with a set plan on where to look.

Dick took off too, except… he was looking for a squirrel.

And the Manor was huge.

Finding a squirrel in this place was like finding a needle in a haystack.

Groaning, he pressed his palm against his forehead.

Jason had a squirrel.

Jason had somehow caught and brought a _squirrel_ into the Manor.

He had no idea how he'd even managed _that_ , let alone getting it past Alfred, Ace and Bruce and into the Manor.

And now this squirrel was loose in the Manor.

And he had no idea how he was going to find it.

He spun around, his eyes scanning every inch of the room for a blur of gray fur streaking past. For anything.

There was nothing.

Oh well. In for a penny, in for a pound, right?

"Peanut? _Peanut!"_

 _There!_ Something sounding a lot like tiny claws on hardwood.

"Peanut!" Without thinking, Dick ran in that direction, not stopping until he realized exactly what room he was in…

The Kitchen.

"Peanut!" He skidded to a stop. "Peanu…" He trailed off, taking note of his surroundings.

The kitchen was empty and, judging from the delicious smell wafting from the oven, Alfred had finished in his preparations here and moved on.

"Master Richard?"  
Or maybe he hadn't.

Dick turned around slowly. "Uh… hey, Alfred." He smiled disarmingly, leaning with one elbow against the counter. "Smells good."

Alfred arched an eyebrow. "Then let's hope it _tastes_ as good as it smells, shall we, Master Richard?"

"Doubting your own abilities, Alfred?" It was Dick's turn to raise his eyebrows, feigning disbelief.

Alfred smiled. "Never," he said firmly. "I am, however, interested in your explanation as for why you and Jason have been running through the Manor like a pair of lunatics for the past half hour."

Dick felt his heart sink along with his shoulders and he slowly deflated. "Um…" Exactly how was he supposed to explain that he and Jason had accidentally let a squirrel loose in the Manor?

Okay, so it might have been Jason's fault for bringing the squirrel into the Manor in the first place, but Dick had still been the one to unleash it upon the Manor in a sense.

Alfred hadn't moved, still waiting for his explanation.

"It's nothing. Just… a game, you know," Dick said quickly. He spotted a jar sitting on the counter to his left and reached out, drawing it to him. "Just coming down here for some peanuts." He smiled again.

If possible, Alfred's brow traveled even higher. "Is that so, Master Richard?"

"Yep!" Dick opened the jar, grabbing a handful of peanuts. Maybe if they were lucky, they could use them to bait a trap. Lure the squirrel in.

Peanuts for Peanut.

He almost liked the way that sounded, but that was a big "almost."

"I certainly hope you're not planning on ruining your appetite so close to dinner." Alfred's voice stopped him dead in his tracks. _Caught._

"You know, just seeing where Jason is off to… maybe see if he'd like some… peanuts?" He was sure the smile he managed at that moment wasn't nearly as charming-or convincing-as the first one.

Alfred didn't seem to think so either. "I trust you are aware that lying is not your best quality?" Up went the eyebrow.

Dick fidgeted, clearing his throat. "Uh… yeah. I think people have brought that to my attention before." Honestly, he was starting to feel a little sheepish.

"Then perhaps you might like to tell me what is really going on? The truth this time?"

Tell him the truth? That there was a squirrel lose in the Manor?

Hell, no!

Everyone knew what a clean freak Alfred was. It didn't take the world's greatest detective to guess at his reaction if he knew that a _rodent_ was on the run in the Manor.

But Dick couldn't hold out. Not against Alfred.

One more second in this kitchen and he was doomed to spill the beans.

"Uhhh…" Dick's jaw dropped open, before quickly snapping it shut.

" _Dick! I got 'em!_ " Jason's voice, promptly followed by a loud crash, carried all the way downstairs.

"Oh my!" The butler's startled gasp was what spurred Dick to action.

Taking advantage of the distraction- which he would have been grateful for if it didn't mean that Alfred would soon be following him upstairs with or without Bruce in tow (and hopefully it would be the latter)-Dick darted out of the room, shouting something about checking on Jason himself.

He was gone before he could catch Alfred's response.

"Jason!" Dick darted up the stairs, still holding tightly to the peanuts he had snatched from the kitchen and praying that his brother hadn't managed to break anything quite yet.

Given the crash heard earlier, that seemed like too much to hope for.

He was proven right about five seconds later when he reached the top of the stairs.

"Jason?" he gasped. A table-and the vase that had once rested peacefully atop it-was overturned, the vase smashed to pieces on the ground, explaining the crash.

Bruce was… not going to be happy about that, he realized with a sense of dread that he quietly shoved to the back of his mind.

Nothing else was broken… yet.

Dick's eyes traveled from the shatter remains of the vase to his brother.

Jason was currently in the middle of the hall, pressing down on a box with all his weight.

"Dick, I've got him under here!"

"Is that why the vase is broken?"

Jason flushed slightly. "That wasn't me! Okay, okay, I might have knocked over the table, but… that was _after_ he'd already knocked the vase over. I was just trying to grab him! Honest!"

There was a scrabbling sound from under the box and Jason glanced down briefly before readjusting his grip on the box's sides.

"Dick, we need to get him out before Bruce finds out!" Jason said, sounding slightly panicked.

"Why did you even bring it in the Manor in the first place?" Dick asked, bewildered.

"He was _hurt!_ "

"Yeah, well, he looked perfectly fine to me when he ran out of your room earlier."

"But he _wasn't!"_ Jason stressed carefully, looking more than a little annoyed with Dick's lack of understanding.

Dick sighed, not having the patience to debate the matter currently, and threw up his hands, the peanuts forgotten. "Okay, you know what? Whatever. He's in the Manor. He's under that box. What are we going to do with him? We need to get him out! Did you even think about what would happen if Ace got him?"

Jason wrinkled his nose, offended. "Ace wouldn't eat him."

"You seem so sure."

"Because he wouldn't." Jason was nothing if not stubborn.

"Yeah, sure he wouldn't." Dick rolled his eyes and held out the peanuts. "Here. Use these."

Jason stared at him. "You got peanuts?"

Dick grinned, unable to resist. "For Peanut."

"You're ridiculous," Jason muttered.

"You're jealous," Dick retorted.

"Of what?" Jason scoffed. "Your superior wit? Please."

Dick sighed. "Take them."

"He's already under the box! If I try and give those to him, he'll get away, idiot! He's already trying to escape!"

Almost as if it had intended to confirm Jason's statement, there was a scratching sound from underneath the box and Jason adjusted his position, continuing to press down.

"We need to get him out of here before he… chews through the carpet or something." Dick knelt down beside Jason, slipping the peanuts into his pocket. Maybe they'd get a chance to actually eat them later. "We have to get something to slip under the box. Then we can bring it over to a window and let him out."

"Boys?"

Jason and Dick spun around simultaneously, Jason careful to maintain pressure on the top of the box.

It was Bruce, more wary than angry as he reached the top of the stairs, but he certainly didn't sound happy with either of them.

Guess all the noise really had reached Bruce in his study.

Or Alfred had told on them.

That or the butler had simply had it with dealing with them and had decided to turn things over to Bruce, which… really didn't sound like Alfred, so it had to be something else.

Dick's attention was drawn back to Bruce as the man's eyes landed on the once beautiful vase that was now lying in shards on the carpeted floor.

"Jason? Do you want to explain to me how this happened?" Voice dangerously low, Bruce's eyes were instantly on the most likely suspect: his youngest.

Jason threw up his hands. "It wasn't me! Why does everyone assume it was me?"

 _Because it usually is._ The words formulated in Dick's head, but came no further as memories of a time when _he_ was the one crashing into things forced themselves to the forefront.

There was a high likelihood that nearly every mishap Jason made was one that he already had. Key word being "nearly."

Dick had, after all, never dragged a squirrel into the Manor.

But he was sure that Alfred would be able to produce a list of all the things he'd broken if pressured.

And Bruce hadn't mentioned the box yet. There was no doubt in Dick's mind that Bruce had noticed it, that he was suspicious about it, but it was probably too much to hope for that he wouldn't bring it up.

"Jason." Bruce stared at him doubtfully. Before he could press any further, his eyes lighted on the box. His expression darkened with suspicion.

"Jason, what's in the box?"

 _Too much to hope for._

Jason's hands instinctively tightened around the edge of the box and he glanced at Dick.

Bruce's gaze went from the box, which Jason was clinging to so protectively, to the broken vase, piecing things together.

"What's in the box, Jason?" he asked again. Jason didn't answer and Bruce's attention turned to his eldest, standing only a few feet away.

"Dick?"

"It's a… it's a squirrel?" Dick winced. _Ouch._ He couldn't even say that sounded less ridiculous in his head.

Jason stared at him in utter outrage. "Traitor!"

"A _squirrel_?!"

Apparently, years of combating every kind of lunatic and madman the city of Gotham could throw at him was not enough to prepare Bruce for that answer.

Dick coughed, not really sure how to process the bug-eyed look they were currently getting.

Jason, of course, simply went for the direct and simple approach. "Gee, Bruce. If you opened your mouth any wider, your jaw would fall off."

Blunt, with a touch of the suicidal. As always.

But it wound up being enough to bring Bruce back to reality.

His mouth snapped shut and he faced Jason. "Before you open your mouth again, Jason, it would be wise to take into consideration that I have the power to ensure that you don't see the outside of your room for the next two months."

Jason wisely shut his mouth for the time being, but the mischievous glimmer in his eyes remained.

"Now," Bruce continued, "explain to me why there is a _squirrel_ inside."

"He was hurt!" Jason said again. "I was trying to help him! Until _Dick_ let him out of my room." He turned accusatory eyes on his older brother.

"Hey!" Dick protested. "How was I supposed to know you were keeping a _squirrel_ in your room?"

"You weren't!" Jason shot back. "You were _supposed_ to stay out of my room!"

"Boys!" Bruce snapped before things could escalate further. They fell silent, still glaring at one another.

Satisfied that there would be no more interruptions, he proceeded, "Now tell me, no excuses, no finger-pointing, just _why_ you have a squirrel in the house."

Bruce's eyes could bore holes in you better than Superman's heat vision could when angry enough.

That was something Dick had learned years ago.

And from the looks of things, Jason was learning it too.

"I found him! He was hurt!" Jason repeated himself and Bruce's frown deepened.

"But not hurt enough that he wouldn't try and tear through the whole Manor?"

Jason looked vaguely uncomfortable. "I guess he got better?" he suggested. "Ace found him. I don't know what happened. I just thought if I brought him to my room, I could make him… better. I just didn't think he'd get _out_."

"Well, it worked," Dick said, giving Jason a wry smirk. "He's all better now."

Bruce sighed, but most of the anger seemed to have drained from his face at the very least. "Jason… your heart was certainly in the right place, but… taking in a squirrel was _not_ the right way to go."

"Then what…?" Jason began.

" For all you knew, it could have been a sick animal. You're lucky it didn't bite you." Bruce glanced back down at the box, as if he could see the furry prisoner trapped underneath. "We're going to continue this discussion, but for now, we need to get that thing back outside where it belongs. We'll need something to slide under there so we can flip it right-side up. Once we've done that, we can let him go out in the front."

"And Alfred need never know?" Jason suggested, earning himself an infamous bat-glare from Bruce.

He shrugged. "What? Don't tell me I didn't warn you guys when it comes time for the funerals."

"That doesn't make any-" Dick stopped himself before he got any further. "You know what? Never mind. Let's just… get it outside, okay?"

Jason stared at him. "That's what we're doing, stupid!"

"Hey." Dick's protest was mild.

"Jason…" Bruce warned. "Be thankful Alfred didn't just hear you say that or else it'd be..."

"No dessert for a month," Jason finished for him. "Yeah, yeah. I know the drill." He grinned somewhat sheepishly. "Sorry."

Bruce narrowed his eyes. "Good."

And then it was back to the matter at hand.

Dick was able to find a board, one that was thin enough to slip underneath the box.

They let Bruce do that, not wanting to risk the squirrel-or _Peanut_ \- getting loose in the Manor again.

There was a squeak and scrabbling of nails as the board was slipped underneath, but Bruce ignored it as he deftly flipped the box over. The scrabbling ceased, followed then by a _thump._ There was another squeak and more scrabbling as it struggled for purchase inside its prison.

Bruce spared the two of them a weary glance as he climbed to his feet. "Let's just get this thing outside now."

Dick and Jason exchanged looks before following him mutely down the stairs.

Dick briefly wondered if Jason had had any intention of pleading to keep the squirrel, at least for a small while, but he felt that it might be a relief to all of them to see it go.

Once out in the front yard, Bruce knelt on the grass, gently lowering it onto its side and removing the board they had blocking the top.

Instantaneously, the squirrel was off like a shot, darting up the nearest tree, a small oak, where it chattered down at them, its voice loud and scolding.

Dick laughed. "Why'd you think he was hurt? He seems fine to me."

He should have known better.

Jason turned on him, eyes flashing fire and Dick was sure he was about to unleash everything upon him. Then, Jason seemed to reign in his emotions for the time being, because when he spoke next, it was with a surprising calmness. The defensive edge, though, remained. "I found him when I was out with Ace last night. He was just on the ground there. I guess he fell and… hurt his leg or something. I didn't want to _leave_ him!"

"No," Bruce agreed. He looked up the tree, where the temporary "guest" was still perched, looking down at them with disapproval. "You didn't. But…" he paused just long enough to see that Jason was still paying attention, "next time don't bring guests into the Manor. And certainly don't try to pick up any wild animals. Especially not with your bare hands." He sighed, low and drawn out, running a hand through the back of his hair. "You need to sweep up the pieces of that vase," he finally said, turning his eyes back on Jason, and then I'll see about giving you extra chores. You can help Alfred in the kitchen. I'm sure he'd appreciate an extra pair of hands cleaning up."

"Wait…" Jason turned on him, not even concerned about the chores anymore. He was just surprised to hear Bruce sounding so… calm. "Aren't you… angry?"

"I'm not happy with you, Jason," Bruce clarifying, tilting his head back as the squirrel finally finished its scolding and leapt to the next tree over, "but your intentions were good. That counts for something. And… I'm proud of you for that."

 _Proud of you._

The words made something warm grow inside of Jason and he turned grateful eyes on his guardian.

Dick punched Jason lightly in the arm before he could speak. "See? You weren't all bad."

"Hey!" Jason glared at him, rubbing his arm.

"Inside now," Bruce said. "You've got to get to cleaning up that vase, Jason."

/

/

/

It was inside that Jason ran into Alfred, waiting for him, broom and dustpan in hand. Both of which he handed to Jason without ceremony.

"So… you know?" Jason asked, somewhat sheepishly.

"Indeed, Master Jason."

Dick had come in behind him and was looking at the scene with no less than amusement shining in his eyes. "There's no keeping anything from you, is there?" he asked.

"I'd certainly hope not," Alfred answered with a huff. "Heaven knows the trouble the two of you and Master Bruce would get into should that ever occur. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have other matters to attend to. Matters," he looked pointedly at Jason, "which you will be helping me with as soon as you've finished with that vase upstairs."

How had he known about that? Had Bruce spoken to him before hand?

Jason accepted both broom and dustpan from Alfred and was almost surprised to feel the butler's hand land on his shoulder before he could turn away.

Confused, Jason looked up to meet his eyes. "Under normal circumstances, I would add to whatever lecture Master Bruce has already given you, but I don't think we'll be having a repeat of this incident, will we?"

Jason shook his head earnestly. "No, sir."

Alfred smiled then, giving Jason a conspiratorial wink. "Then perhaps, Master Jason, we can skip the lecture for now. However," he added, before Jason could do more than grin gratefully and the boy slumped in defeat. There was always a "however." "I am compelled to add to your discipline and insist that you write a brief essay on the variety of vases on display around the Manor, _including_ their significance _and_ their value."

Jason groaned. "But…!"

"Consider yourself lucky that Master Bruce didn't see fit to take away your allowance as well, Master Jason," Alfred replied, before turning to leave Jason and Dick by themselves.

"So," Dick said, following as Jason trudged off to do his designated task, "Peanut, huh?"

Jason shot him a fierce look. "Something wrong with that?" he snapped.

Dick held out his hands, palms up, in a gesture of peace. "No. I like it actually."

Jason snorted. "Well, if _you_ like it then," he muttered, picking up his pace halfway up the staircase.

Dick trotted after him. "Hey, I'm not that bad!"

"Yeah, you are."

"No, I'm not!"

/

/

/

A/N And there you have it… the last lighthearted chapter for… at least two more, but who knows really? I should probably apologize for the utter ridiculous of this chapter, but eh. **shrugs**

Chapter Seven Status: Complete

Chapter Eight Status: …In progress… but we're getting there!

In any case, please review! Reviews give an author life!

Plus, you get virtual cookies! ^_^ (::)(::)


	7. Brother's Keeper Part I

**A/N** Well, I'd hoped to get this up early to make up for the long waits, but... that didn't happen. Anyways, it's here now and I hope you all enjoy!

As always, a special thanks to both Purplehood and Meritt for all their help and support.

Warnings for language, violence and some peril.

 **XxX**

Looking back on it now, Dick really shouldn't have been surprised that the day had all gone to hell the way it had, but, in his defense, he hadn't expected such a simple thing as going out for ice cream to end so disastrously.

For what had to be the hundredth time in less than half as many minutes, Dick tested his bonds.

Nothing.

Go figure.

He grunted in frustration, lips curling into a snarl.

 _Why did they have to tie this so freaking tight?_

"Dick?"

Dick glanced up at his name, trying and failing to smile reassuringly at his little brother.

Jason was seated across from him, at the other side of the room, his arms twisted back and bound behind the chair in much the same way as Dick.

"Hey, Little Wing." The nickname slipped out before Dick had much time to think about it, but, under these circumstances, Jason didn't seem to care. "Look, I… I'm gonna get us out of this, okay?" He flexed his fingers, striving for the knot. His fingers tips brushed against it. Barely. "It's just gonna take a while."

"Where are they?" Jason asked, ignoring Dick's comment and cutting straight to the point. "I haven't seen them."

"They" being the men responsible for grabbing the two of them. There were at least three by Dick's count. Masks, they were definitely all male… although… there was the driver. Had the driver been a female?

Dick really hadn't gotten a look.

Everything was already blurring together in his head.

And so far, since waking up in this barely furnished room, they hadn't seen any of them.

Dick found that only slightly worrisome.

He really had no idea how long it had been since they'd woken up in here, but… if they were looking at a kidnapping for ransom, then surely they'd have wanted to make their demands by now. And, knowing Bruce, he wasn't going to cave to anyone's demands unless he knew that both of them were safe.

Which meant that someone should have should have come in here now, handing out death threats and the evil eye while thrusting a phone at them.

But no one had.

It was likely they were letting Bruce stew, make him worry before making a phone call, make him more anxious, more willing to pay, but they were doing an awfully good job of letting _them_ stew.

"Who knows? I don't think anyone told them they're required to make a villain speech. Or at least gloat," Dick said, trying to make light of a situation there really was no making light of. He'd have shrugged had the position he was in, not made the movement extremely uncomfortable.

"Bad guys actually do that?" Jason asked. He… he almost would have sounded amused had it not been for the faint tremor in his voice.

Jason was scared.

As much as he was trying to hide it, putting on a brave front much like Dick's, he was scared.

The realization made him work harder at striving to get his fingers on the knot. He'd been kidnapped before. Sure, that didn't make it any less unpleasant or any less scary, but he'd been in situations like this one before and he'd always gotten out of them, more or less unharmed.

And at the very least, the ones who'd grabbed them didn't seem like they were the type to hold a knife to your face and describe the ways in which they would kill you if ransom wasn't paid.

But Jason… Jason had never been in a situation like this.

Sure, he'd likely been in some pretty tough scrapes on the street, the knowledge making Dick clench his fists behind his back, but never something like _this._

Kidnapped, with nothing keeping you alive but the fact that they wouldn't get their money if you were anything else.

It was a truly horrifying situation.

The closest… he realized the closest to this that he was aware of had been that time Jason had slipped out his window and wandered the streets of Gotham for several hours before he and Batman had found him at the mercy of a group of street thugs.

Jason had been scared then too.

Dick had seen it. Seen it and felt it for himself. _He_ had been scared that night too. Scared of losing the kid who'd become his little brother in just about every sense of the word.

Jason might have spent a good portion of life living on those streets and he might have an impressively convincing brave front at times, but damn it all if he wasn't still just a twelve-year-old kid. One who'd just been snatched off the streets by a bunch of strangers and one who had no idea how the day was going to end.

"Jason," he said, his voice softer now, more gentle. "We can get out of this. See? Just feel for the knot and work on it. It will eventually come loose."

Jason squirmed, his expression telling Dick that he was giving it a try. He hissed in frustration, several creases appearing between his eyebrows.

"Just keep working it," Dick encouraged, keeping his voice low. He didn't know if the kidnappers would be able to hear them, didn't even know where they were, and he didn't want to risk raising his voice any more than he had to. "It'll work." Even as he said this, he could feel his own fingers catching a hold on the cord and began to work at getting it loose. It would be long and tedious work and would likely leave his fingers stiff and painfully sore, but if he could get them out of here…

"Dick," Jason said softly, catching his brother's attention. "When do you think… I mean…"

The sound of a slamming cut off whatever he had been about to voice and he snapped his mouth shut.

Dick immediately found his senses on hyper-alert, straining to listen, to catch anything that might be going on outside their little prison and, with the new arrival of their captors, he felt a sense of dread he had been able to block out until now.

"… say we go in there now."

 _No. No, no, no._

There was a murmured response, something that Dick couldn't quite catch.

"…call now." The first voice. "Make 'em talk to the old man."

 _Bruce._

He was probably out of his mind by now, swearing the dark vengeance of the Batman upon whoever had dared to lay a hand on his sons, but knowing that the Batman couldn't take action until after dark.

And Alfred, Alfred keeping vigil with Bruce, waiting for that inevitable phone call, true feelings hidden beneath that ever present stoicism.

Dick swallowed.

The second voice answered again, before Loudmouth cut in, this time his words inaudible.

The voice was accompanied by heavy footfalls, which crossed the room, before the speaker seated himself on some creaky piece of furniture.

"Dick," Jason whispered. "They're not coming! They're not going to let us talk to Bruce!"

Dick found himself surprised by his desperate vehemence, but at the same time he understood it, remembering his own terror during his first kidnapping, how it was hearing Bruce's voice over the phone that kept him anchored.

A laugh, high and feminine sounded on the other side of the door. The driver, he realized.

And then another sound cut in and Dick realized they had turned on the television. They were watching TV.

They were out there, laughing and watching TV as if they hadn't just kidnapped two children, less than three hours earlier. As if they weren't just criminals.

"Keep working at the knot," Dick whispered back.

Jason glanced uncertainly at the door, before looking back at Dick. Dick noticed he was biting his bottom lip hard enough that it was already starting to lose its color.

"Jason," Dick said, fighting to keep his composure, even as he felt his own heart racing, "Think about what we know about them…" He allowed his eyes to roam the expanse of the room, taking in every detail. A ratty old carpet that, if he had to hazard a guess, had once been a dark blue, but was now a washed out gray. An old cot, most likely useless to everyone at this point. And, most intriguingly, the window. Old, the panes covered in mold, the one is lower left corner shattered, only a few jagged shards of glass remaining.

Yes, a window was definitely a very good thing.

"There are four of them," Jason said. "Three men, the ones who grabbed us. The driver, she's a… a woman."

"Yeah." Dick winced as he felt the rope chafing his wrists, but kept working. "And they're not guarding us. They're…"

"…not expecting us to be any trouble," Jason finished his sentence for him.

"Exactly." Dick grinned, glad to see his brother back. "And they've left the two of us alone."

\

\

\

Four hours! It had been four hours. Bruce slammed his fist on his desk growling in fury, before sinking down into his chair with a low groan. "Four hours…"he moaned.

"Sir," Alfred asked, approaching, "might I inquire if there has been any word yet regarding the young masters?"

"None," Bruce answered grimly. He stood and, with one sweeping motion, knocked the papers and books from his desk, while Alfred watch. "Damn it!" he ground out. " _Damnit!_ I shouldn't have let them go out alone. I should have been _with_ them!" But he hadn't. He'd let them go. He'd trusted them. And now some bastard out there had his son. "I should have allowed for the possibility that something like this would happen."

"Master Bruce, please," Alfred reasoned, his pained expression giving away his own worry and helplessness, "neither boy is helpless and Master Richard is quite the responsible young lad. It was perfectly reasonable for you to allow them a bit of freedom. And need I remind you that it has been two years since his last abduction. You could not possibly have foreseen this."

Bruce shook his head, clenching his fists. "No," he muttered. "There's no excuse for letting my guard down. None of that matters. Not if the boys don't…" He stopped himself from going any further, unwilling to put a voice to his dark thoughts. Alfred pursed his lips, already aware of where his employer's thoughts were headed.

"Master Bruce," Alfred placed a comforting hand on the man's shoulder, "you have never failed the boys up to this point. I find it highly unlikely that you will begin to now. And need I remind you that Master Gordon has promised that his men are already doing all they can?"

Bruce growled, clenching his teeth. "It's still six hours before Batman can join the search." He wouldn't be happy until he himself could be out there searching for his boys.

"And the boys will be home long before then," Alfred said firmly. "But it will not help either of the young masters if you are off chasing dead ends when the… when that dreadful call comes." Because the call would come.

Anything else would mean that ransom was not the motive.

Anything else was unthinkable.

\

\

\

"The broken glass." Dick gestured with his head towards the jagged edges of glass in the broken windowpane, even though he knew Jason's position would make it difficult for him to see it.

Jason twisted his head, trying to get a better look. "I see it, " he whispered.

"It's not that high." If he were standing, he'd guess it would only reach his waist. "If you can reach it, you'd be able to use it to cut the ropes."

Jason planted his feet on the carpet and pushed back, trying to slide his chair closer to the window. "Whoa!" Instead, his eyes grew wide as he felt the chair tilting backwards and he quickly leaned forward to avoid taking a very painful trip to the floor.

He winced as the impact jarred his bound arms.

"Careful!" Dick hissed, an uncomfortable mixture of irritation, amusement and hysteria churning in his gut.

"Okay, _Mom_!" Jason snarked, but he moved more cautiously this time, pressing his feet against the carpeted floor and slowly inching his chair backwards.

He was nearly there, shooting a Dick a look of victory, when…

 _Slam!_

The door burst open and Dick felt his muscles stiffen almost involuntarily. Jason, on the other hand, froze, mouth agape in an expression of complete and utter panic.

If he noticed that Jason had moved… If he saw the broken pane of glass… If he realized what they had been doing…

 _Please, no._

The man moved into Dick's line of sight and Dick drew a stuttering breath, feeling the fear he'd fought to repress return in full.

The man was big, broad chested and tall, features hidden beneath a black ski mask.

Okay, so they weren't _totally_ amateurs, he thought, ridiculously, given the circumstances.

The man's eyes, a cold, pale blue beneath the mask, narrowed. "Drink," he commanded.

Dick blinked, taking a moment to register what it was exactly that this man was commanding him to do. "Wh-wha?"

" _Drink!"_ With surprising swiftness, the man grasped his hair, tugging his head back harshly. Dick's breath hitched as his throat was exposed, but before he could lash out, kick, do _anything_ , something was forced between his teeth. Dick's eyes widened, but before he could jerk his head away, he felt something completely rejuvenating slip down his throat.

 _Water._

It was lukewarm, but it might as well have been the best he'd ever tasted.

All too soon, the man yanked it away, before turning to Jason and delivering the same treatment.

Jason coughed as the water bottle was yanked away, struggling to regain his breath.

"Call," he gasped out when he finally had. "You need to call!"

The man hesitated, already halfway towards leaving the room and something in this gave Dick hope.

Maybe they could talk to him. Convince him somehow that this is wrong. That he doesn't have to do this.

He's had that conversation countless times with the criminal lowlifes on Gotham's streets, though never from the position of the victim.

 _Ever the optimist,_ his inner voice mocked him and he pushed it down, choosing, for the moment, to ignore it.

"You…" No, it was coming out all wrong, all funny and choked up, like he was having trouble speaking. "You don't have to do this," he said and the man's eyes were instantly on him. "You can…"

Can what? Let them go? It really didn't seem likely.

He swallowed, twisting his wrists in their bonds to no avail.

"No," the man agreed, but there was nothing reassuring in his voice, "I don't _have_ to do any of this, but don't kid yourself, boy. There are people who will do _anything_ for the money."

"So why both of us?" Dick tried again, his voice stronger now. "You only need one. Bruce will still pay. You can let him go." He nodded his head towards Jason.

"Dick!" Jason snapped suddenly. "What are you…?"

"Trying to be a hero?" The man snorted. He shook his head. "Take my advice and don't waste your breath kid. Neither one of you is leaving this place. Not until Wayne pays up."

"You say that," Dick accused, "but have you even contacted him? Or are you just content to let us sit here and rot?" What he was saying was stupid, _really_ stupid, he realized. He was pretty much goading the man, but he couldn't bring himself to care. This man had dared to take him and his little brother, had dared think he could use them for money.

"You never win," Jason sneered, speaking up for the first time. Maybe following Dick's example. "The bad guys never win. You slip up. You do something stupid. You lose. That's how it goes. You know it. I know it. We all know it."

The man's attention was all on Jason now. "No," he said, reaching out and grasping Jason's chin between his thumb and forefinger. He tilted his head back, forcing him to look him in the eyes. "Those are a child's words."

"Don't touch him!" Furious, Dick struggled unsuccessfully to break free.

Blue Eyes ignored him and his grip on Jason's face remained. "No… the bad guys do not always lose," he snarled. "Because the cops… and those costumed freaks they support… they can't save everyone."

Dick watched the emotions flicker across Jason's face.

No, they couldn't. No matter how much they wished they could.

Jason had been on the streets far too long to not know that.

Blue Eyes released Jason's chin and the boy instantly dropped his gaze, glaring sullenly at the floor. The man backed away a step, satisfied.

A voice called to him from outside the room… one of his comrades. The woman's voice. She wouldn't step in. Only one of them at a time.

Was there supposed to be some sort of advantage in that?

Dick didn't know.

The man took a moment, meeting Dick's gaze steadfastly as the boy glared at him.

Then he was gone.

"Jason?"

"He's still gonna get his butt kicked," Jason muttered, assuring Dick that regardless of what had been said, he still had his spirit.

"No doubt about it," Dick agreed slowly. "Are you… okay?"

Jason snorted and looked away. "Yeah. Fine." Tone suggesting he was anything but.

"Ja…" Dick started, unconvinced, but Jason was already working to cut through his ropes. The word died before leaving his mouth.

Jason grimaced, no doubt due to the discomfort his attempts were causing him.

Then, he gave a small cry of triumph and his hands were free.

He turned victoriously towards Dick, face shining, and Dick couldn't deny it when he felt his own heart soar.

They were getting out of this.

Jason stood, attempting to take a step towards Dick, and stumbled. He caught himself on the edge of the chair, hissing in surprise.

"Careful," Dick whispered. His fists clenched behind him as his stomach lurched. Any noise might bring Blue Eyes or one of his cohorts here to check on them. And if someone did come and found Jason loose… Dick felt his jaw tighten.

That couldn't happen.

Jason climbed unsteadily to his feet.

"How are you feeling?" Dick asked.

Jason groaned, making his way to Dick. "Stiff."

He moved behind Dick and Dick could feel him tugging on the knots. 'Should've grabbed one of the shards," he muttered.

"You'd have cut yourself trying to get one." Dick flinched as Jason's finger slipped, nicking his wrist with his fingernail.

"Did they have to tie it so damn tight?" Jason swore under his breath, right before Dick felt something loosen. "Wait, I got it!" Hurried hands were at his wrists, pulling and tugging, and suddenly, he was free!

He rubbed his wrists, trying to get circulation back, shoulders aching.

"Now what?" Jason whispered, as Dick forced himself to stand up, grimacing as his muscles protested painfully. Dick didn't miss the way Jason eyes the door as if someone is about to come bursting in on them.

The door was out for sure, but… his gaze fell upon the window.

The window was old, the frame falling apart.

And… he was pretty sure this was the second story.

He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself, readying himself for what had to be done.

And then he slammed his foot into the glass.

There was a shout from outside the room and Dick realized they only had a few seconds.

"Jason, go!" Dick grabbed his brother's arm, not bothering to be gentle, and yanked him forward, shoving him towards the window.

"But…!" Jason stared at him incredulously, even as he was thrust forward, as he climbed up onto the sill, avoiding the glass as best he could.

Dick offered what he really hoped was a reassuring smile. "Do you really think I won't follow you out?"

"There's a fire escape," Jason gasped out.

The door crashed open behind them.

"Stop!"

Dick didn't even bother to turn around. "Go!" He gave his brother a shove, knowing he wasn't going to be able to keep his promise. He wasn't going to be able to follow him out.

His brother cried out and a large crash sounded beneath the window.

Dick was just able to catch a glimpse of him, before hands grasped his shoulders, his wrists, and he felt himself pulled back away from the window.

"Dick!" Jason shouted, voice frantic as he realized Dick was not coming after him.

 _No!_

Jason couldn't be caught again. And that is what would inevitably happen should Jason try to return for him out of a sense of loyalty.

He only had time for one word before he was dragged completely away from the window.

"RUN!"


	8. Brother's Keeper Part II

**A/N** So, I kind of left you guys hanging last time. And then I promptly got writer's block, so while I had ideally wanted to post this early last week, that was not to be. Regardless, I do hope that you find this satisfactory, even though it did not come out the way I had originally hoped.

 **Warning:** Peril, violence, possibility of some language. I actually don't remember. Oops.

 **XxX XxX**

Stars blew up around him as the fist collided with his face. "Think you can just pull that stunt?!" Blue Eyes seethed, looming in front of him and Dick was struck for the first time how truly enormous this man was. "Do you?"

Dick grit his teeth, blinking past the pain.

Blue Eyes took a step back.

He didn't have his mask on, revealing blonde hair and a face that was currently blotched red with rage.

The fact that they were all now mask-less scared him more than anything else had so far. He'd seen their faces. They wouldn't let him go.

And if they caught Jason too…

"Go after the kid," he snarled, turning to the third man, hanging back a few steps behind. "If he puts up a fight, we still have his brother." He gestured carelessly to Dick, still held back by the other man. "He'll remember that."

The woman, who, Dick noticed, had been silently observing throughout, smiled slightly at that.

"No! Leave him alone!" Dick kicked out and the man holding him cried out when Dick's heel connected with his shin. The grip on his arms fell away and Dick ran forward.

He might not have been a costumed crimefighter at the moment, but these people were damn fools if they thought Dick Grayson was going down without a fight.

He didn't make it very far before he was tackled around his ankles and fell to the ground. Before he could scramble to his feet, the man's weight was suddenly on his back, pinning him in place. Strong hands grabbed for his wrists, twisting them behind his back.

"Go! Before he gets far!" Blue Eyes ordered to the remaining two kidnappers. So far, they had held back, waiting to see if their assistance would be needed, but now they left the room, in the pursuit of his younger brother.

Dick snarled furiously, even as the man dragged him to his feet, still keeping his arms pinned behind his back. "Leave him alone! You only need one of us! Just let him go!"

"Think we're about to let one of you rich kids go? Just like that?" the man holding his arms hissed in his ear and Dick jerked his head away quickly.

Blue Eyes narrowed his eyes in disdain, before turning his attention to the cell phone he pulled out of his jeans pocket. "Get the kid restrained, Garrett. They'll have the other one before long and then we can put the call to Wayne…"

"Names…" the one called Garrett started to protest.

"Kid's not going anywhere after he's seen our faces. Now do it!"

/

/

/

 _Ten minutes ago_ Jason had landed on the rusted fire escape with a loud _thunk!_ that seemed to vibrate in his very bones.

He glanced upwards. Dick was supposed to be following him. Dick was supposed to be _following him!_

He'd promised!

"Stop!" He could hear the voice, filled with utter fury, coming from the same room he'd been in not two seconds before.

"Dick!" he shouted, panic lacing his voice.

Then Dick's voice reached him. "RUN!"

/

/

/

"And so far you've found what?" Bruce tried hard to keep any passive aggression from seeping into his voice. He wasn't so sure he'd succeeded.

The Commissioner was a good man. He knew that, both from his personal experiences with the man as Bruce Wayne and from his dealings with him as Batman.

Jim Gordon adjusted his glasses, pushing them farther up the bridge of his nose. "A lead. We found the car witnesses placed at the scene of the abduction."

It took all his self-control not to leap at the answer. "And?"

"And there's a squad checking it out as we speak." He met the other man's eyes. "Have you received any demands yet?"

Bruce's mouth dipped into an angry frown, his hand formed a fist. "No."

Gordon nodded sympathetically. "When they do," and it was a _when_ , not an _if_ , "we'll get a trace on them."

Bruce swallowed. "I… understand."

"Bruce…" Commissioner Gordon took off his glasses, wiping them down on his shirt before replacing them on his face, "I…I'm sorry. If it was Barbara…" he trailed off, shaking his head. "…I don't know what I would do." He looked back at Bruce. "I want you to know… I'll do everything in my power to bring your boys back home unharmed."

/

/

/

Jason ran, taking the steps down the fire escape two at a time until he crashed into the alley below.

They were somewhere in the Narrows… meaning there was likely nobody to help if he started screaming bloody murder right then and there.

He darted around a corner, pausing to catch his breath and collect his thoughts next to a Dumpster.

He couldn't stay here.

They would be coming for him. Jason wasn't naïve. He knew they wouldn't let him go if they could help it.

But Dick hadn't gotten out.

And Jason also knew he wasn't about to leave his brother.

Dick was an idiot if he'd thought Jason was just going to leave him.

He straightened, up glancing quickly around him.

He'd circle around, find a new way in, one that the kidnappers weren't paying attention to, bust in and rescue Dick.

It wasn't like there was any way he was going to find any help here.

The few people he might run into would likely be junkies or criminals themselves.

 _No,_ the traitorous little voice in the back of his mind whispered. _That's not gonna work._

 _Shut up!_ he snarled back viciously.

He wasn't going to leave him. He wasn't!

He just had to find a way to…

"Hey, you! Kid!"

His heart leapt in his throat.

` They couldn't have found him already!

He didn't even look back.

Jason urged his feet into motion, breaking into a run.

"Wait!" the voice shouted after him. Harsh. Commanding.

 _Don't stop. Don't stop._

Jason did, turning reluctantly to face the speaker, a stocky man sporting a head-full of dark, curly hair.

"You run and your brother does not see tomorrow."

Jason tensed. "You're lying!" he accused fiercely.

"How can you be so sure?" The man's lips peeled back, revealing teeth in a predatory snarl. "We only need one of you, as your brother seems so keen on pointing out. And we still have you."

Jason took a step back. "No…"

Someone grabbed him from behind, and he cried out, thrashing against the hold and he realized it had been a distraction.

He heard a hiss behind him and the grip tightened, nails digging into the flesh of his arm.

"Your brother will be glad to have your company back," the woman's voice sneered in his ear and, damnit, her hold was strong!

Her hand found his throat, fastening below his chin, holding his head in place against her shoulder. Jason growled, the sound originating deep in his throat.

The man was suddenly there beside his companion, heavy hand clamped tight over his mouth before he could yell for help because, Narrows or not, there was always that slim chance that someone would hear him.

Jason gagged, wrinkling his nose in disgust, because, _holy crap_ , didn't this guy ever wash his hands?

The woman released her grip, falling into step beside her partner, as Jason stumbled forward, dragged alongside the larger man.

"You run, your brother doesn't make it, you understand?" the man hissed in his ear. He removed his hand and Jason sucked in a breath.

" _Understand_?" the man hissed again and his grip on Jason's shoulders tightened.

"Y-yes," Jason stammered, breathlessly, and the grip slackened, but the hand never left his shoulder.

"Good." Stocky straightened. "Now move it, kid!" He shoved Jason forward with more force than necessary, nearly sending the boy sprawling on his face.

Jason stumbled forward, barely managing to catch himself before he hit the asphalt. They were being careless now.

He could break away from them at this very moment, run and they'd never catch him, but that would mean taking the chance that they _weren't_ bluffing.

And that was a risk Jason couldn't take.

"Hurry up!"

Suddenly, Jason found himself falling forward onto the asphalt. Stocky towered over him, face a mask of fury. "Get moving!" he snarled.

Jason picked himself up, heat swiftly rising to his cheeks, brushing the gravel off his stinging palms.

"You're pathetic!" he snarled, rising to face the man in all his blind rage. "You think lording it over kids makes you tough, but you're a _coward!_ "

He hardly had time to blink before Stocky backhanded him across the face. He cried out, the force knocking him to the ground, and tried to blink past the flashing lights dancing in his vision.

Jason thought Stocky might be shouting something, but, over the ringing in his ears, he could make out nothing.

He blinked once, twice, and tried to pick himself up off the ground, before a blinding pain exploded in ribcage and he realized Stocky must have kicked him.

Jason gasped, curling into a miserable ball. Tears waited threateningly at the corners of his eyes and he furiously held them back.

In his peripheral vision, he could see Stocky's foot draw back, aiming for another kick, and he curled tighter, hating himself for being so weak.

It never came.

The woman was suddenly in Stocky's face, grasping his shirt lapels. "… the hell are you doing?" He could barely make out her words, but she was furious. "… not supposed to touch them!"

For a moment, Stocky stood there fuming and Jason was sure he was going to hit her. Instead, he simply removed her hands, taking a step back. "Kid needs to learn his place," he finally muttered. He took a step towards Jason and the boy instinctively cringed back, a hiss escaping from between clenched teeth.

Stocky glared, but quickly grasped Jason's arm, hauling the boy forcefully to his feet before he could do more than grunt in protest.

Stocky twisted his arm, much harder than was necessary, and marched him forward, no doubt fighting to conceal the anger he'd lashed out as a result of not one minute ago.

Perhaps the woman had managed to intimidate him, or at least get through to him. More than likely though, he was afraid of what Blue Eyes, seemingly the leader, would do to him when he learned that Stocky had disobeyed what apparently was an order.

Jason hissed as his arm was forced higher up his back. His cheek still stung where he'd been hit and his battered ribs protested painfully with each step. Jason bit his lip stubbornly, refusing to allow any other sign of weakness.

The woman followed close beside them, and Jason wondered what thoughts were going through her head.

Was there any part in her, in any of them, that felt a shred of remorse? Or had the desire for money silenced any unvoiced thoughts of protest they might have had?

Jason wasn't sure.

The door to the condemned building they were being held in was old and decayed, practically rotting away on its hinges. The man forced him through, muttering a curse under his breath.

The toe of his sneaker caught on an old piece of debris as Stocky thrust him forward. He felt himself stumbling forward and, when Stocky didn't release his grip, he felt a screeching pain in his shoulder as his arm was wrenched even further back.

This time, Jason did cry out and immediately hated himself for it, feeling tears beginning to leak from the corners of his eyes and angrily blinking them back, as he was dragged back to his feet.

There was an old staircase, which he was immediately thrust towards.

"Wouldn't it just be easier to take the elevator?" he gasped out and paid for it when he felt a cuff to the back of his head.

"Trying to be smart?" the man challenged, tightening his grip.

Jason winced, considered coming up with a smart response, thought the better of it and remained silent. Anger and indignation cancelled out fear at the moment and, for that, he was grateful.

Reaching the top of the stairs, the man shoved him forward. He fell to his knees with a dull thud.

His heart stuttered rapidly in his chest. Suddenly, he was reminded of an execution.

After all… they'd seen their faces now.

He wasn't an idiot.

And he was sure one of them had a gun.

His hands were almost immediately yanked behind his back. Jason fought back mainly for appearance's sake. Fingers tightened around his wrists, twisting his skin painfully in their grasp. Thick cord wound around his wrists, tightening securely and biting into his flesh.

"Jason?!" At the sound of Dick's voice, panicked and a little desperate, Jason snapped his head up, hope making his heart beat faster.

Dick was dragged forward, hands bound behind his back as well, and shoved to the floor beside him.

"Enjoy your reunion, boys." The man they'd been referring to as Blue Eyes smiled down at them. "You won't have long." And then he left the room, pulling a phone out of his side pocket.

"Dick?" Jason gasped, relief flooding him because _Dick was okay._

"What happened to your face?" Dick demanded, his voice furious, and suddenly, Jason wanted more than anything to be free, to be close to his big brother. "Jason, what did they do?

"They said they were gonna kill you," Jason dropped his voice to a whisper, evading the question as the full horror finally had a chance to sink in.

"Hey, it's okay," Dick said quickly, changing his tone reassuringly and leaning in closer to his little brother. "It's okay. I'm fine. They didn't hurt me." Even as Dick said the words, Jason could see his eyes glancing back at the angry mark he was sure had already formed on his cheekbone.

Jason nodded slowly, muscles in his throat constricting. He glanced around at the remaining kidnappers in the room with them. The woman was seated, no longer paying any attention to them, having chosen to flip through several magazines she'd had with her.

Stocky, however, was watching them, a creeping smile slowly spreading across his face.

It made Jason shudder. He hated the fact that this man, this _kidnapper_ , was standing there watching them, watching what was supposed to be a private moment between the two of them.

Heavy footfalls had Jason looking up again to see Blue Eyes marching towards them, expression determined.

"Daddy wants to speak with you," he said, crouching down in front of them. Something gleamed in his eyes, something greedy and cold that made Jason cringe back almost before he realized what he was doing.

Blue Eyes nodded to Stocky who stepped forward and dragged Jason back, stifling Jason's yelp with a hand over his mouth. "None of that now," he murmured. "Wouldn't want Daddy getting the wrong idea about our hospitality now, would we?"

"What are you…?" Dick began, outraged.

"Shhh," Blue Eyes said, placing his finger against Dick's lips. Dick quieted, but the angry spark in his eyes didn't dim in the slightest. "Tell the old man what he wants to hear and," he gestured towards Jason, "I won't be forced to take drastic action against Junior here. Understand?"  
Dick said nothing, his glare increasing in its intensity, but he nodded. Blue Eyes smiled, lowering his finger.

"Good." He held out the phone. "Now say 'hello.'"

The phone was pressed against his ear and Dick immediately took a deep breath. "Bruce?" His voice wobbled slightly.

He paused, long enough to hear whatever it was that Bruce was saying.

The phone wasn't on speaker. Jason couldn't hear Bruce's voice, no matter how much he might have wanted to.

"W-we're fine," he answered, gaze sliding automatically to Jason's cheek. Almost immediately, Stocky tightened his grip on Jason's face.

A warning.

Jason winced and Dick clenched his jaw. "They didn't hurt us," he lied at a look from Blue Eyes. He managed to make it sound half-convincing and Blue Eyes nodded, satisfied.

He brought the phone away from Dick's ear. "Satisfied? The kids are fine, Wayne," he said, mouth twisted into the arrogant smile of a man who knew he had all the pieces where he wanted them. "Remember what I told you, Wayne… Three million for both of them, or they die. We'll contact you tonight with information on where to drop the cash. You'd better be ready, Wayne."

He ended the call. "Looks like Daddy's all to eager to do what I tell him to," he boasted. He reached out, stroking a hand through Dick's hair. "Too bad you guys won't be around by the time the money comes."

"You can't…!"

"Is that how it is for you rich boys? I… _can't?_ Because you _say_ I can't?" He laughed and, for a moment, his hand fisted in Dick's hair, before releasing him suddenly.

He turned to face Stocky, who was still holding tightly to Jason.

"Let him go," he ordered and Stocky did, shoving Jason a little harder than necessary.

Unable to use his hands to catch his fall, Jason ended up face first on the floor. "Hey!" Dick snapped. Jason rolled onto his side, managing to use his shoulder to maneuver himself enough so that he could pull himself to his knees again.

Blue Eyes stood, backing away from them. "Try to escape again," he warned, "and I'll make sure the both of you regret it."

With a sudden crash, the door was kicked open.

"FREEZE!"

"HANDS IN THE AIR!"

Jason blinked in shock at the quick flow of officers into the room.

Stocky swore violently.

"On your knees! Hands where I can see them!" Detective Renee Montoya ordered, voice firm and gun in hand.

Very slowly, Blue Eyes raised his hands in surrender, glaring bitterly as he slowly knelt on the floor.

Jason forced himself to take a breath.

They were okay now.

They were okay.

And then it was all a flurry of motion, until…

"Are you okay?" Someone was beside him, hand on his shoulder, before undoing the knots around his wrists.

Jason could only nod numbly as they fell away, snatching his hands forward and trying to rub the feeling back into them.

"Jason?" Dick entered Jason's field of vision, grabbing him by the shoulders, looking him over. His eyes once again landed on the mark on his cheek and Jason felt the urge to cover it up with his hand. "Are you okay?" Dick asked anxiously, perhaps sensing Jason's discomfort and turning his gaze away.

"Yeah." Jason swallowed and looked Dick in the eyes. "Yeah."

Dick smiled, relief evident, before they were ushered to their feet by the same cop who'd freed the two of them.

Jason caught sight of the woman in handcuffs and next to her the man with whom they'd had the least interaction. Stocky was cussing, putting up a fight even as his hands were cuffed behind him.

And Blue Eyes… Blue Eyes didn't move, didn't struggle, stood there stiff as his hands were cuffed behind his back. For just a moment, his eyes met Jason's.

The man's jaw clenched, muscles in his neck going taut, and Jason instinctively stepped to the side, even as the cop moved between them, continuing to head them in the direction of the exit.

Then, he clenched his fists tightly, lifting his chin just a little.

 _We won._ He didn't speak the words, but he was sure the message was clear.

He felt Dick's arm slip around his shoulder, pulling him close, and Jason didn't protest. Instead, he let himself cling to his older brother as they were brought out into the open.

 **XxX**

 **A/N** One last chapter left to this arc... and don't worry, it's pretty much all fluff! XD

Please review and let me know what you think!


	9. Brother's Keeper Part III

**A/N** I am so, so sorry for the wait. Life has actually been going pretty smoothly, so I've been able to get a _lot_ of writing done. However, I have not been able to make it to the library lately, and that is really the only way I can get things published, because the computer I have now does not allow me to post things. :/

 **XxX**

Bruce clenched his fists, digging his nails into the flesh of his palms. "They're okay," he repeated.

 _They're okay. They're okay._

The words played like a mantra through his head.

He'd received the call not half an hour ago. The boys were safe, having been found in a condemned building in the Narrows.

"They are, thank God," Alfred replied, truly grateful, pulling up to the address the police had given them.

Bruce was out before the car had even fully stopped, ignoring Alfred's words of warning as he broke into a jog, heading towards the police cars.

He had to see.

He had to see for himself that they were alright.

"Dick? Jason?"

He caught sight of the boys, standing amongst several officers, and immediately his jog became an all out sprint.

One of the officers spotted him. "Mister Wayne…" His words went unheeded as Bruce brushed past him.

"Jason?" he called out. The boy turned, followed quickly by his brother, eyes lighting up at the sight of their guardian and father figure.

It happened so quickly.

One moment they were standing there and then Jason was in his arms, clinging to him, and Dick was hanging back, before joining in on the hug, and they were laughing and crying all at once.

 _They're okay. They're okay._

And then he was grasping Jason's face, noticing the bruise there, and he felt the emergence of the Batman. "They hit you." He didn't ask. He didn't need to. The pieces were all there for him to put together.

Jason pulled away, hand reaching up to feel the mark, and he made a face. "Yeah," he confirmed awkwardly. His fingers grazed his face, before he dropped his hand down to his side with a shrug.

Bruce turned his eyes to the older boy. "And…?"

"I'm fine," Dick interrupted quickly. "They didn't hurt me." And as far as Bruce could see, that was the truth.

"Master Richard!" Alfred's voice called out to them, and they turned to see the old man hurrying towards them.

Bruce had yet to relinquish Jason, not quite ready to let go. "Alfred!" Dick's face lit up as he embraced the old man.

"It's good to see you safe and well, young sir," Alfred replied.

"Yeah, well it feels good to be alive and well," Dick joked. He pulled away, holding the butler at arm's length and Bruce was sure for a fact that he was not imagining the emotion on the boy's face. "It's good to see you, Alfred," he said.

Alfred smiled, the skin around his eyes suspiciously moist, before turning to Jason. His face darkened when he noticed the mark. "Barbarians," he muttered, shaking his head and shooting an angry glare in the direction of the police cars. "No worries though," he said, turning back and patting him on the shoulder. "We'll have you both feeling back like yourselves once you're back home at the Manor."

Dick nodded, swallowing slightly as his gaze flickered to Jason. "Can we go home now?" he asked, speaking for both of them. "I… I'd like that."

Bruce squeezed Jason's shoulder lightly. "Of course," he answered. "Just as soon as a few other matters are taken care of."

XxX

Jason had expected protests, an argument, but, in the end, it only took a few words from Alfred and the promise to deliver their statements the next day for them to be allowed to leave.

And Jason was relieved.

He wanted to go home.

His cheek stung and he could already feel his ribs throbbing where the man had kicked him. He winced, and resisted the urge to curl in on himself.

It wasn't that bad. He could handle himself.

Dick was staring out the window as the city blurred past, lost in his own thoughts.

"Well…" Bruce said, as they pulled up outside the Manor gates, "…we're here."

Alfred stopped the car, giving the gates time enough to open for them after the security code was punched in, before they moved on.

Jason sat up straighter. He leaned forward, fidgeting with his hands, even as his stomach fluttered uncomfortably.

Bruce seemed to notice because a few seconds later, his hand was on his upper back. "We're here, Jay. It's okay now. You're both okay now." He looked at Dick as he said this and the older boy forced a smile.

Bruce wrinkled his brow, studying him. "Dick…"

"I'm fine," Dick said, too quickly. Bruce raised his eyebrows, but the boy's jaw was set and Dick could almost rival Jason in stubbornness when he put his mind to it. He wasn't going to get anything more from him quite yet. "You should worry about Jason," he told him, and Bruce could see the muscles in his throat working.

"I'm fine too!" Jason snapped, crossing his arms and glaring sullenly off to the side.

Bruce suppressed a long sigh.

Obviously, they were both understandably shaken up by events of the past … had it really been six hours?

Bruce forced himself to breathe deeply, calming himself at least somewhat.

If he was going to get Dick and Jason to open up to him, then he needed to be in full control of his own emotions.

Alfred put the car in park. "Perhaps," he said, "a good meal is what everyone needs to get their wits in order."

Jason perked up at that. "Chili dogs?"  
There was a decidedly offended intake of breath from the front seat. "I should think not!" Then, a pause as the grandfatherly old man studied the boy through the mirror. "Then again, maybe tonight it would be perfectly acceptable to make an exception. Just this once."

Jason beamed and Bruce's lips turned upwards in the beginning of a smile. "That sounds great, Alfred."

 **XxX**

"Ace!" Jason cried, as the big dog rushed out to greet him once the Manor doors had been opened. Ace licked his face, whining with pleasure, and Jason wrapped his arms around the dog's neck.

"It might do you some good to know," Alfred commented, watching the reunion between the two, "that the dog has been pining for you two ever since your… disappearance."

"That's Ace for you," Dick said. He smiled briefly at Jason before following Alfred through the door.

Jason rose to his feet to follow them, when a sharp pain in his chest had him gasping suddenly and he reached up, clutching at his chest.

"Jay?" Bruce turned and then was instantly at his side. "What's bothering you? Did something else happen?"

"He… kicked me," Jason whispered, squeezing his eyes shut as if he hadn't wanted to divulge that information. "In the chest. Hard."

"Who?" Bruce asked, even though he was damn well sure who "he" was, an ice cold fury running through his veins. He immediately wished he'd had a chance to meet those men face to face.

Jason refused to meet Bruce's eyes, instead studying the mat that lay across the front steps of Wayne Manor. "The man… the one who went after me…" he answered, and his voice was so low that Bruce had trouble catching his words. "It hurts."

"But it's not impairing your breathing at all," Bruce observed, placing a comforting hand on the boy's shoulder to steady him. "Your ribs aren't broken. Likely just bruised. Let's get you inside."

Ace at his heels, Bruce silently guided him inside and to the couch, having him sit down.

"Bruce?" Dick looked from Bruce to Jason and back to Bruce, wanting to know what was wrong… aside from the obvious.

Bruce sighed. "One of them kicked Jason in the chest. Hard enough to bruise it would seem."

Dick's jaw clenched and unclenched briefly. "Jay…"

"It's not that bad!" Jason protested, out from between clenched teeth.

"Regardless," Bruce soothed. "I'm still going to have to take a look and possibly get you bandaged up. Dick," he said, without taking his eyes off of Jason, "run down to the cave and grab some of the medical supplies we keep there."

After only a moment of hesitating, Dick was gone, and Bruce returned his full attention to Jason.

"Jason," he said slowly, "I need to see your ribs… You're going to need to lift up your shirt." He winced as he said the last part, not exactly sure how Jason would handle that particular request. "Please, Jay," he added, before the boy could put voice to any protest.

Jason slowly uncoiled, allowing Bruce to grip the hem of his T-shirt, and Bruce gingerly lifted it up, revealing the boy's torso.

The skin over his ribcage was bruised, but he could honestly say that, while painful looking, it wasn't _that_ bad.

Bandages might not be a bad precaution though… just in case.

"It… doesn't look that bad…" he told Jason, lowering his shirt back down. "They're not broken, but it's likely that they're bruised…" As gentle as he was trying to be with the boy, he couldn't control the wave of fury that washed over him. Someone had dared to go after his children, take them from him. Someone had _dared_ to physically assault his son.

He took a moment to breathe deep, calming himself.

The man had been arrested.

He was going to jail.

There was absolutely nothing he could do.

Except maybe pull every string he could to see to it that that man didn't get off easy.

"Bruce?"

Dick entered the room, medical supplies in hand. Bruce and Jason looked up simultaneously, and Bruce realized that he'd given almost no attention to the older boy so far.

There was a tightness in his chest, one he couldn't completely ignore. "Dick," he asked, "how are you feeling? Really?"

"Um…" Dick rubbed the back of his neck and seemed to be seriously considering his answer. "I…" He winced, evidently deciding to go with the truth. "It was my fault."

Bruce blinked once. "What?"

"This whole thing… I should have been paying more attention, watching out for Jason… This is Gotham for crying out loud! I should have seen it coming." He shook his head, disgust evident upon his face.

"You… think it was your fault?" Jason repeated, staring at him incredulously and Dick's frown was answer enough.

"Dick," Bruce said, returning Dick's frown with one of his own. "What happened… that wasn't your fault. There are limits to what you can do and what you can prevent… even in costume."

"I… I know. I know." Dick bit his lip. "Just… there should have been something. We can't give away our identities, sure, but… what's to stop Bruce Wayne's wards from taking a couple of self—defense classes? It would make sense. We'd be able to put up a fight without raising suspicions."

Bruce considered for a moment, before smiling at his eldest. "It would. I think that's something we can look into."

"You mean we can actually kick their butts?" Jason grinned. "That's awesome!"

Bruce put his arm around Jason. "Don't get too enthusiastic… Basic self-defense doesn't mean you can go full-out 'Robin' on them."

Jason stuck out his tongue. "You're no fun."


	10. Just One Dance

**A/N** First things first, I want to thank all of you who have favorited/followed this and/or left reviews, because I really appreciate it!

Second… recommendation time! For those of you who appreciate a good angst/hurt/comfort story, check out _Abandoning Absolution_ by Meritt. She's a fantastic writer and she is doing an amazing job exploring the character of Jason Todd!

 **Warning:** Briefly mentions underage drinking, but nothing too bad. Also contains an OC who was created for the specific purpose of being annoying. *laughs evilly

 **Pairing:** Slight Dick/Babs

Without further ado, please enjoy!

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Jason sidled up to Dick, glancing around at the partygoers filling the massive ballroom. "So… you're just going to stand here? The whole time?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Dick crossed his arms, frowning back down at him. "For now." Jason angled his head, eyeing the rest of the room.

Sure, maybe it wouldn't be too much fun to hang out with the other guests, but… there was an extremely tempting dessert table at the other end of the room.

With reluctance, Jason tore his eyes away from the far side of the room and faced Dick again. "Isn't Barbara supposed to be coming?"

Dick studied him for a moment. "She might have said something. Why?"

Jason shook his head. "You don't even know. Sheesh, you're hopeless."

Dick narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Jason cocked his head and grinned. "Nothing."

Dick rolled his eyes. "It's always something, Jay."

"Not this time." Jason leaned against the wall, feigning innocence, and Dick didn't push him.

Patience always won out when it came to Jason. If it was anything of importance, then Jason was sure to say something more.

"Richard!"

"Uh oh." Jason peeked around Dick, even as his older brother froze. "I don't think you're getting out of this one."

"Richard!" Sasha Prince rushed forward, grasping his arm. "Daddy said you were here! I've been looking for you ever since!"

"Oh, Sasha," Dick began, flustered. "Um… hi!"

Sasha Prince was the daughter of Eric Prince, business partner to Wayne Enterprises. Somehow the man had taken it into his head that the eldest ward of Bruce Wayne was the perfect match for his daughter, an opinion that nearly everyone shared. Everyone meant, of course, Eric and Sasha Prince. Everyone did _not_ mean Bruce Wayne, Jason Todd _or_ one Richard John Grayson.

"Aren't you going to dance with me?" she asked, leaning closer.

"Sasha, I…" Dick began, trying unsuccessfully to extract his arm.

Sasha pouted. "All the time I spent looking for you, and you don't even have the decency for a single dance?"

 _Ouch_.

Dick winced a little.

There was a reason she almost always got her way.

"Okay, look, I can… just one, okay?" he said, caving.

Sasha squealed. "I knew you'd come around, Richard!"

"Isn't it grand, Richard!" Sasha exclaimed cheerfully. Her blonde hair was swept upwards in some elaborate bun that allowed a few loose curls to hang down, while her floor length silver gown rustled elegantly as she moved. "It's not _nearly_ as big as Daddy's parties, but it's all for a good cause! And of course that's what matters, like Daddy always says!"

"Well, he's right," Dick said, even as Sasha dragged him away from the wall and Jason. He had his doubts about the man's sincerity, but Prince was willing to do anything to increase his publicity. He wasn't sure how much of that mindset had trickled down to Sasha.

Dick shot Jason a look. _Save me._

Jason held out his hands in a gesture that plainly said, _You're on your own now._

Dick bit back a groan. It wouldn't do for Sasha to sense his discomfort. Annoying or not, he wasn't sure he could handle hurting her feelings and making a scene. Especially not here.

It looked like he was stuck with her for now.

Fantastic.

 **XxX**

Jason watched as Sasha dragged Dick away into the crowd. The girl and her father really had no idea how to take _no_ for an answer, but… it was almost amusing seeing how helpless Dick was.

"Jason?" They'd only been gone several minutes when he caught sight of Barbara making her way towards him.

She'd left her red hair hanging loosely over her shoulders, and was wearing a simple black dress that reached a few inches past her knees.

"Babs!" Jason perked up.

Barbara looked around as she approached him. "Where's Dick?" she asked, coming to stand next to him.

"Sasha Prince." Jason inclined his head in the general direction in which Sasha had dragged Dick.

"Her? I thought they'd handled that." The skin between her eyebrows drew tight.

"Try explaining that to _her._ "

"I see." Barbara frowned. "So… what are we going to do about it?"

Jason turned to stare at her. "You mean… like a rescue?"

Barbara smiled, twisting a lock of hair around her finger. "Why not?"

Jason couldn't hold back a wicked grin. "It's time for Operation Rescue."

 **XxX**

Dick and Sasha swayed gently back and forth. "So…" Dick said slowly, trying to process everything Sasha had told him in the past ten minutes, "your… birthday party is next week?"

"Yes." Sasha cast him a disappointed look from beneath lowered eyelids. "Dickie! Weren't you listening to me?"

"Of course!" Dick backtracked smoothly. "It's just… I thought your birthday wasn't for another three weeks."

 _Way to channel your inner Bruce Wayne here, Grayson._

But, damnit, no! Bruce could turn an awkward situation around without even batting an eye. He didn't have that level of charm!

"Good." Sasha smiled, seeming content again and continued on. "Daddy decided to throw it early this year. Business came up of course." Unconcerned, she waved a slender hand in the air. "He's even hired several bands to play this year to make up for it though! In fact, he's having them write me my very own song!" She beamed at him, clearly awaiting his reaction.

"That's, uh, that's great!" Dick managed, summoning that smile that worked so well for him on these occasions and hoping it was acceptable. She giggled as he twirled her around and Dick had to laugh a little too.

Sasha tilted her head to the side, a few loose curls spilling out over her crown, and she smiled up at him. "Mm-hmm." She leaned in closer. "Daddy already had Margarita send out the invitations to everyone and of course I wouldn't forget _you._ "

Dick forced his smile to stay put. "That's… nice of you, but really…"

"Oh, please," she cut him off before he could come up with a plausible excuse, her nose wrinkled slightly, although her eyes are laughing at him. "Don't try and tell me you've got something better to do. I know for a fact you don't."

"Oh?" Dick raised his eyebrows, wondering if she was bluffing or if she'd somehow found a way to stalk his schedule, finding out what was happening in his life before he even knew himself.

"Of course." Sasha tossed her head. "You don't think I wouldn't have had Daddy check with Mr. Wayne first?"

"You… I… what?" he asked. They checked with _Bruce?_

"Don't act so surprised. You know I want you there." She looked up at him hopefully. "Will you come? Promise me, Richard!"

"I…" Dick opened his mouth, intending to say that he'd see how things went. Instead, he found himself saying, "Sure."

Sasha frowned at him. "That wasn't a real promise, Richard!"

Dick sighed. "Okay," he said and really hoped he wouldn't regret it. "I promise."

Sasha's face lit up and she did a little hop in place. "Yes!" she squealed, before quickly clapping a hand over her mouth. Her eyes still shone though and Dick sighed, taking her by the arm and guiding her away from the dance floor.

"You look a little spent," he told her. "Why don't we get something to eat?"

"I'm starved," Sasha agreed quickly, taking the lead.

Dick caught sight of Jason slipping between several partygoers and tried to quell the curiosity that nipped at the back of his brain. He was sure the boy was plotting something and a small part of him regretted not being in on the scheme, whatever it was.

He shook his head, collecting himself. He was supposed to be entertaining Sasha, not chasing after his little brother.

Then a flash of red hair appeared in his vision and he did a double take. _Barbara?_

He caught her eyes and noticed the slightly amused look she gave him. Jason must have filled her in on what was going on.

Dick shrugged helplessly and it was then that Sasha noticed his attention was no longer on her.

"Who's she?" she asked, glancing in Barbara's direction, and her mouth dipped into a tiny frown.

"A friend," Dick answered, turning back to her and Barbara disappeared back into the crowd.

Sasha crossed her arms, disapproval clearly written across her face. "Her dress is too plain!"

"Sasha!" Dick gaped at her, offended on his friend's behalf.

"It's true!" Sasha pouted. "She looks like one of the maids!"

"Sasha, that's enough! She's my friend. That's the end of it," Dick said, tight-lipped, and Sasha seemed to realize she'd made a mistake and wisely remained silent. Before the silence could become too awkward, Dick relented and spoke again. "Come on. Let's just get something to eat. The desserts look pretty fantastic."

A few minutes later and Sasha nearly had him laughing at some absurd story about her darling horse and his hopeless terror of the small cat that liked to lurk in the stables, hunting the mice. She held a mini chocolate éclair delicately in hand, from which she'd only taken several dainty bites, so absorbed was she in the story.

Dick, on the other hand, had opted for the simpler carrot cake.

"Nightingale wouldn't even go into the stable until Daddy had the stable hand remove it," she finished and Dick, despite himself, found himself chuckling along with her. He still wasn't happy with her for the slight against Barbara, but attempting to hold a grudge at this time would only be counter-productive. She didn't even understand that she had done something wrong.

Then, an idea sparked in Sasha's mind and she grabbed onto his arm with his free hand. "Oh, Richard! We could take the horses out! I know you'll love it!"

Dick carefully extracted his arm from her grip. "That sounds great, Sasha."

Sasha beamed. "I know." She finished off the éclair with surprising grace and returned to the table.

A waiter walked by, a tray of champagne glasses balanced perfectly on his palm. Sasha called out to him, before reaching out and delicately plucking a glass off the tray before the man moved on.

Dick frowned at her. "Sasha, what are you doing?"

Sasha giggled. "Don't be so silly! What does it look like? Having a drink, of course!" She took a small sip.

Dick cleared his throat. "Except you're about five years too young to drink."

Sasha gave a half-shrug and grinned. "You're being ridiculous. It's only one drink! Besides, no one's going to care!" As if to prove her point, she raised the glass to take another sip…

… and someone jostled her arm just enough for her to spill it all over the front of her dress.

She shrieked in dismay, hopping backwards, even as the glass slipped from her fingers, shattering into a thousand tiny pieces on the marble floor.

Several heads turned their way, striving to see what the matter was, but Dick had already rushed forward, grabbing several cloth napkins from the table.

"Are you okay? Here, let me help you!"

"No!" She pushed him away, snatching the napkins from his outstretched hand and began to frantically dab at the front of her dress. "No! No, no, no! Do you know how much this dress cost?" She turned on him, fury in her eyes. Her eyes were shining, and Dick realized she was dangerously close to bursting into tears. "And don't you dare laugh, Richard Grayson!" she ordered, thrusting an accusing finger his way.

Dick held up his hands defensively. "I wouldn't!"

Sasha sniffled. "Someone knocked into me! My dress is ruined!"

"Sasha…" Dick peered beyond her and saw… Jason. His forehead furrowed and he shot a subdued glare at his younger brother. Of course. He should have figured that Jason would be involved somehow.

And while he appreciated the effort made to "rescue" him, he really didn't think wrecking Sasha's evening was the way to do it.

"Oops. Sorry, Sasha." Jason came forward, giving her an apologetic look that Dick doubted was at all sincere. "I must have bumped you by mistake."

"By _mistake_?" Sasha turned on him, furious. "You think this is a _mistake_? My dress is _ruined,_ you _brat!_ "

"Sasha…" Dick began, but Sasha cut him off.

"Don't talk to me! I'm going home!" She brushed past Dick and marched off, holding up her skirts.

Dick didn't bother going after her. Not when she was like this.

Instead, he turned to face… "Jason." Dick crossed his arms and Jason shrugged, snagging some kind of cookie.

"Admit it. You were waiting to be rescued." He took a bite out of the cookie, which looked to be some kind of macaroon.

"Maybe… but not like that."

Jason shrugged. "Worked, didn't it? Besides, Barbara's here. I think she might want to talk to you."

 _Barbara_.

She was here. Dick remembered. "Oh?"

Jason rolled off. "You think I pulled off this daring rescue by myself?" he challenged.

"Um… yes?"

"Okay, maybe." He paused, chewing on his lip. "But she helped set it up."

Dick's eyebrows pressed into a thin line. "You needed help thinking up that brilliant strategy?"

"It was her idea to send the waiter guy over here."

Dick couldn't help it anymore. He burst out laughing. "You did all that? To get me away from Sasha Prince?"

Jason looked altogether too satisfied with their plot. "Duh."

"Where's Barbara now?"

"Right behind you actually."

"What?" Startled, Dick spun around.

Barbara tilted her head at him, red hair hanging loosely over her shoulder. "I see you've escaped from the evil witch."

"Yeah… I heard you had something to do with that."

She smirked. "You're welcome."

Dick rubbed the back of his neck before breaking out into a grin. "Somehow you still manage to surprise me."

"I'm taking that as compliment, hero."

"You should."

"Glad to hear it," Barbara said, taking his arm. "Now, how about a dance?"

Dick smiled, accepting her arm. "I think I'd like that."

/

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 **A/N** So what do you guys think? Did you like Sasha's comeuppance? Should she return to plague Dick with her insufferable nonsense or do y'all never want to hear from her again?


	11. Boy Wonder

**A/N S** o to make up for the inexcusable delay in between updates, I'm posting two chapters today!

 **Warning:** A bit of language here or there.

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Jason's breath caught as he stared at the mirror.

He could hardly believe it!

He was… he was _Robin!_

The red, Kevlar-reinforced suit, utility belt, black, flame-resistant cape with the yellow underside that flared dramatically when he leapt.

This was so going to be awesome!

Jason grinned at his reflection, puffing his chest out. He could take on the world right now! With Batman at his side!

Crooks didn't stand a chance.

Knuckles rapped on the wall outside the changing room. "Jason!" Dick called. "You coming out or do I have to break down the door?"

Jason rolled his eyes. Like Dick would actually break down the door. "I'm coming out," he called back. "You don't need to be so pushy."

Dick cocked an eyebrow as Jason exited, marching past him, hurrying towards the lower levels of the cave. "Who's pushing?"  
"You are," Jason snarked over his shoulder.

Dick trotted to catch up, before turning a perfect flip and landing on the stairs ahead of him.

He laughed, the sound bouncing off the roof of the cave and echoing around them.

"Show off," Jason muttered, crossing his arms, but Dick saw the tiniest hint of a smile.

"Hurry up! Wouldn't want Bruce to leave on patrol without you."

"He wouldn't."

"I wouldn't be so sure about that. He ditched me one or two times. You just don't want it be your _first_ time, because what kind of a record would _that_ be?"

"You're lying."

Dick scoffed, jumping down several steps to keep ahead of Jason. "You don't believe me? Ask him yourself."

"Like he'd ever ditch his perfect golden boy."

Dick turned another flip, this one backwards. "I was far from perfect at your age. Or golden for that matter."

"Good to hear," Jason huffed, running after him.

" _But_ ," Dick called back up to him, "I'm about as close to perfect as you get now!"

"Keep flattering yourself!" Jason yelled back.

"I will, thank you!"

Bruce was already waiting, suit, minus the cowl, in place. "What took you?" he asked, seeing the boys tumble in after their race down the stairs.

"Preening," Dick answered, before Jason could get a word in. "Can't have a bird that doesn't preen."

Jason flushed bright red. "I was not _preening!_ " he retorted hotly.

"I see."

Was he going crazy or did Bruce almost look… amused?

"I wasn't!"

"Jay, look, I know it's hard, but," Dick said, gesturing to himself, "you'll live up to the legend. I promise."

Jason rolled his eyes. "Gee, thanks. A vote of confidence from the living wonder himself." But at least he looked a little less ready to kill Dick.

Dick grinned. It worked wonders every time. "Anytime!" He raised his hand in a mock salute.

Jason would have stuck out his tongue would it not have looked utterly out of place in the costume.

"So," Dick asked, assuming a more casual posture, "how does it feel, Little Wing?"

For once, Jason didn't complain about the nickname.

"It feels awesome!" Jason crowed and, this time, when he faced Dick, his grin was positively radiant… and contagious. Dick felt his own grow even wider. "I'm Robin! Do you know how many kids dream of being Robin?"

"I think I have an idea."

"Robin was all some kids talked about on the streets." Jason looked at one of his gloved hands, forming an experimental fist, as if he were picturing what it would be like to take down a baddie in that costume. "They loved Robin. We all did."

Something panged inside of Dick's chest. "Oh."

"Robin inspires hope," Bruce said, matter-of-factly. "Perhaps even more so than the Batman. After all, it's young people who can truly change the world."

"He's right, you know," Dick said. He didn't think he'd ever thought about it like that before. Robin was the Batman's sidekick.

Cool, yes.

Awesome, most definitely.

But in the shadow of the Bat.

As much as he'd joked about making a name for himself while he was Robin, he hadn't seriously thought it would happen until he became his own person.

But Robin meant something.

To the abandoned and forgotten children of Gotham, if no one else.

He just wished that had been something he'd known at the time.

Maybe he'd have done something about it.

Damn, he wished he _had_ done something about it.

But then his attention was back on his kid brother. This was _Jason's_ day, _his_ moment, and Dick wasn't going to spend it wallowing in regret.

"You ready?" Bruce asked, watching Jason closely.

Jason pumped his fist in the air. "Absolutely! Let's go kick bad guy butt!"

"This'll be good for him," Dick said, thinking back to Jason's words about the street kids and Robin. He and Bruce watched Jason dash to the Batmobile. "He needs to be needed."

"Hmmph," was all the acknowledgement he received as Bruce rubbed the space directly between his eyes. Dick wondered exactly how much sleep he'd gotten in the past few days. "Let's just hope he doesn't get himself killed."

Dick shook his head. "Oh ye of little faith. Jason'll be fine. He can't be much worse than I was."

"I don't know. You boys always seem to come up with something new."

"That's part of our charm."

"I'm not so sure I would call it 'charm,'" Bruce said tiredly.

"We going or what?" Jason called, perched atop the Batmobile. "Those bad guys aren't going to get their butts kicked unless we're there to do it for them!"

Bruce lifted the cowl up and onto his head. "You coming?" he asked Dick, eyes now hidden behind the lenses of the cowl.

"Wouldn't miss Jason's first day on patrol." Dick grinned. "Although maybe I'll stick to the shadows. Give Jason a chance in the limelight."

"You won't need to," Bruce said gruffly. "Jason's not getting physically involved until I'm certain he can handle himself out there."

"Getting slow in your old age?" Jason called again and Bruce's attention returned to the young boy.

"Never," Bruce answered resolutely.

"You're smiling." Dick shook his head. "Oh gosh, I just saw the Batman smile."

Batman gave him a look. "Just shut up and get in the car."

Dick grinned cheekily, putting his mask in place. "Yessir!"


	12. First Patrol

**A/N See? I'm capable of quick updates! Really, I am!**

 **I have a better computer now, so hopefully quicker updates will become a thing.** ** _However,_** **I do have several stories that I'm looking to get done, so I won't be focusing as much on this. I do have the next few one-shots written out though.**

 **Anyways, in this chapter, I sort of switch from "Jason" to "Robin" and vice verse at least twice. It was meant to represent the mental switch from thinking as Jason to thinking as Robin. I will probably be doing the same thing with Dick and Bruce, but let me know if you think it's too confusing.**

 **As always, a huuuuuge thank you to Purplehood and Merrit for all their amazing support and a huge thank you to all of you who have read/followed/favorited or reviewed this!**

 **Enjoy!**

 **XxX**

"Uncool, Bruce," Jason muttered to himself.

"Names on the field, Robin," Batman's stern voice reminded him over the communicator. "Doesn't matter if you think no one can hear you." Robin flinched. He'd forgotten the communicators meant both Batman and Nightwing could hear whatever he said.

He'd switch it off, but of course that would mean he wasn't responsible enough to be out on the field.

The communicator was in case Batman and Nightwing ran into trouble and needed backup. Like they'd need backup.

"Right. Sorry," Robin spoke into the communicator.

 _Still, uncool_ , he thought sourly.

Bruce had told him he was to watch. To avoid involving himself in any altercations unless he said otherwise.

And so here he was, keeping his post like a good little soldier, but there had yet to be any action.

In fact, Batman and Nightwing's investigation had already led them away and out of his line of sight.

"If the point of this is to show me how it's done," he grumbled, "why am I sitting here? I can't even see you guys, so it's not like I'm going to learn anything I don't already know."

"You will remain at your post," Batman growled.

"Right," Robin muttered again. "Some patrol."

A scream cut through the air and he was instantly on alert.

"Something's happening!"

"Robin?" Batman's voice sounded in his ear. "Robin!"

"Someone screamed." He swallowed. "I have to do something!"

The scream came again, louder and more desperate. Batman was saying something, but he didn't have time to try to figure out what.

Turning off his communicator (and praying Bruce wouldn't kill him for that little stunt), Jason ran to the edge of the building.

The sound hadn't come from this alleyway, but a little farther.

He eyed the distance between the two buildings grimly.

It was a distance of maybe five feet. Not enough space for his grapple gun.

He could clear it though.

He could.

Robin took a deep breath…

… and then he flung himself out into space.

The jump was exhilarating-and terrifying!

He didn't yell. Doing so would only alert whoever he was trying to sneak up on.

Instead, he felt his feet touch down lightly on the roof of the building he'd been trying to reach and breathed a low sigh of relief, before running to the edge of the building.

Robin's eyes narrowed in fury, the source of the scream spotted.

A woman was cornered, her back pressed against the wall of the alley.

Two men had her boxed in, cutting off any route of escape.

There was nowhere for her to run.

"P-please," she whimpered, turning her head to the side, tear-tracks running down her cheeks.

"Now, now," the first man said, holding his hand out and rubbing his fingers together, "just hand over what's in your purse and no one needs to get hurt here."

He'd had enough.

Leaping down from his perch, he used the fire escape as the medium in between before landing directly between the men and their intended victim.

The men gave shouts of alarm, taking steps back.

"What's the matter?" Robin flashed a cocky grin. "You occupied?"

The first man, a brute with tattoos decorating his bulging biceps, took a step forward. "What's to worry about? He's just a kid. The Bat ain't even with him."

Robin tensed, readying himself for the fight. Behind him, the woman took the opportunity to flee. He heard her footsteps echoing on the trash-strewn pavement.

Good. She would be safe now.

And he could focus on being the hero.

The first man rushed him and Robin ducked the first punch, feeling the air as it whooshed over his head.

The man's fist smashed into the brick and he howled in pain.

Robin dropped down, sweeping the big man's legs out from under him and he went down, cursing.

The second man, having watched his companion fall, lunged forward with a snarl of rage.

Robin spun out of the way, then kicked out, catching the back of the man's knee and he cried out, crashing to the ground.

Before he could get too smug, a solid grip caught hold of his ankles and his feet were yanked out from under him.

He gasped, his chin striking the pavement, and lashed out, twisting out of the grip on his ankles.

He rolled onto his back.

The first man was on his feet again. "Stupid kid!"

Robin rolled out of the way, just as the man's foot came down where he had been a split second earlier.

 _Don't let a larger opponent get their hands on you._

Well… he'd already messed up on that one, he realized as Bruce's words came flooding back to him.

Didn't mean he had to make the same mistake again.

He was on his feet in an instant, dodging the next blow as it came.

"Seriously?" he taunted. "If you're the best Gotham has to offer, this job might be easier than I thought!"

Big, Tattooed and Ugly grabbed for him again, a guttural roar exploding from his throat. "Gonna kill you!" he snarled.

"Good luck with that one." Robin jumped, hands on the man's shoulders giving him the needed boost to slam his knee into the man's face.

The man let out a wordless cry, clutching his nose as blood oozed between his fingers.

"Next time you decide to try mugging someone," he hissed, "you're going to have to deal with a lot worse than just me."

"Robin!"

 _Crap._

So much for making it back to his post before anyone noticed.

Not that there had been any hope for that in the first place.

The dark shape of the Batman sailed down to meet him.

Robin waited, but Nightwing made no appearance.

He glanced at the slitted eyelets in Batman's cowl. "Where's Nightwing?"

"Alerting the GCPD," Batman answered tonelessly. "Gordon and his men will be here soon to pick up these two."

"You work fast," Robin muttered.

"You left your post."

Jason exploded. "What was I supposed to do? Let them hurt her? We're supposed to be heroes, Br- Batman! Heroes don't stand down and do nothing!"

Batman stared at him a long moment. Then, "We'll talk later."

Feeling like he had just signed Robin's death warrant, or, at the very least, gotten himself fired, Jason nodded numbly.

 **XxX**

Jason sat on the edge of the table, swinging his legs as Alfred prepared the antiseptic for the scratch on his chin. His anger and indignation had long since faded away, leaving a sort of dull… nothingness. He didn't regret disobeying. He would do that again in a heartbeat. But without the anger fueling his resolve, he wasn't looking forward to facing down the Batman. "So…" His eyes traveled over to wear Bruce sat, logging the night's proceedings onto the large computer. Dick had already been sent upstairs to shower and head to bed. Jason would be following as soon as Alfred was done here. "Screwed up, huh?"

"Perhaps." Alfred eyed him shrewdly. "But it would have been most unfortunate had you allowed that young woman to come to harm."

Jason shrugged. "Wish Bruce could see it that way."

Alfred looked at him closely. "Have you spoken to him yet?"

Jason's eyes flashed back to the old man's face and he shook his. "Not since patrol ended."

Alfred hmmed, but didn't speak as he carefully swabbed the boy's chin. Jason flinched, instinctively pulling away, before remembering that this was _Alfred_ and letting the man continue his work. "Give him a chance to come around, young sir." He placed a hand on Jason's shoulder, giving him an encouraging smile. "Master Bruce can be… difficult at times, as I'm sure you've noticed, but let him have time enough to reflect on it and I'm sure he'll see you did good."

Jason's insides fluttered hopefully. "He will?"

Alfred carefully applied a bandage over the scraped skin. "He can be surprising."

Jason snorts. "Go figure."

"Master Jason!"

"Alfred." Jason jerked his head back, surprised, as Bruce spoke up, having approached without their noticing. "I'd like to have a word with Jason, if you don't mind."

"Certainly not, sir." Alfred gave Jason's shoulder a comforting squeeze before leaving him to face the beast alone.

Jason faced Bruce, figuring he might as well get it over with now. "I'm guessing you must be pretty ticked off by now, right?"

"I'll admit that I was… disappointed in you for disobeying." He looked at him sharply. "Orders are given for a reason." Jason opened his mouth to argue, anger taking spark within him, but Bruce held up a hand. "However, what you did tonight… I would have been even more disappointed in you had you kept to your post and allowed those thugs to mug that woman."

Jason stared at Bruce for a good several seconds, fidgeting with his hands in his lap. "You're not angry," he finally stated.

"No," Bruce agreed. He took a step, before stooping so he's more at the boy's level and placing his hand on his shoulder. "No, I'm not. You saved that woman from harm, and… I'm proud of you for that."

He stood, and, this time, he frowned grimly. "But switching off your communicator was taking an inexcusable risk. You were lucky that those thugs possessed nothing more than brute strength without the training to put it to use. Had something gone wrong…"

He didn't need to finish the sentence.

A silence stretched between them.

"I didn't want you to stop me," Jason finally admitted, staring at his knees. He hadn't thought.

Okay, well, he had. Just not all the way through.

"You scared us." Jason looked up again in surprise at those words. He'd scared them? So he'd jumped off the radar, yeah, but… he'd scared them?

"Oh," was all he said.

"You turn off your communicator and we have no way of knowing if you're okay, or if something's happened to you and you'll have no way of knowing if one of us needs backup or medical treatment." Jason suddenly had a sinking feeling in his stomach. "The communicator is a lifeline. You keep it on at all times, is that understood?"

Jason nodded, the sick feeling in his gut increasing. He'd messed up big time. He found himself imagining Dick injured out there, Bruce frantically trying to contact him, being unable to reach him.

Jason winced.

"I'm sorry," he finally said, slumping his shoulders.

Again, the silence stretched between them, and Jason wondered if Bruce was about to tell him he could forget about ever being Robin.

Then Bruce sighed. "But… you stepped in to help that woman. And I'm proud of you for that."

Jason stared at him incredulously. "So I'm still Robin? You aren't firing me?"

"You're still Robin," Bruce confirmed. He didn't smile. Not really, but he looked a lot less… intense. "I'm expecting this to be a one time mistake though. Do not turn off the communicator again, otherwise we'll be having this conversation again. Now… I want you to head up to bed."

Still feeling slightly stunned, Jason nodded, before hopping off the table and heading up the several flights of stairs to where he can change out of his costume.

 _No costumes anywhere but the cave._

One rule that Alfred was _strict_ in enforcing.

"Hey."

Jason's head snapped up.

Dick was standing at the head of the flight of stairs. He was already dressed for bed, hair still damp from the shower.

The idiot was going to get sick if he stayed down here any longer.

"You were brave out there, you know," he said, giving Jason a chance to climb the rest of the stairs until he reached him.

Jason shrugged, although his heart glowed at hearing such words come from his older brother.

"Just…" Dick barked out a small laugh that sounded anything but humorous, "don't drop off the radar again, okay? I don't want to worry if you're dead or dying."

Jason nodded. "Okay." Then something occurred to him. "Some record for first patrol, huh?"

Dick nodded. "Oh, that's definitely a record, but you want to hear what _I_ did?"


	13. Culinary Failure

**A/N I'm updating early! For one thing, it's because I'm just so excited to actually be able to update whenever I want (provided that I actually have a chapter ready) that I couldn't resist, but mostly because I wanted to thank all you awesome fellows who've given reviews over the past few months.**

 **I haven't been able to respond lately because the computer I was stuck with wouldn't allow me to login and I had to go to the library to update.**

 **I can't remember who I responded to/who I didn't, but I'm able to respond now and I want to thank you all anyways, and let you know how much your reviews mean to me. Thank you! And because I dislike when all a chapter is just one big author's note, you guys get a chapter thrown into the mix!**

 **As for the chapter, well, when I heard that Bruce, the goshdarned** ** _Batman_** **, couldn't cook, I just had to give it a go, even though I know that others have done this before, and have probably accomplished it better than I ever could, but oh well.**

 **As always, I hope you enjoy!**

 **XxX**

"So," Jason said, looking at the recipe cards on the counter in front of him, "shrimp scampi and apple pie?"

"That's what I said," Bruce answered, digging through one of the cabinets, the clattering of pots and pans nearly making his response inaudible.

Jason wrinkled his nose. It was no secret that Bruce Wayne couldn't cook to save his life.

That didn't seem to stop the man from trying though and with Alfred was off chauffeuring Dick to Sasha Prince's (dreaded) birthday party, this was the perfect opportunity for him to make dinner.

"You sure you don't want to try something else?" he asked. "Like spaghetti? And maybe one of those cake mixes that come in boxes? We don't have to tell Alfred where it came from."

Bruce emerged from the cupboards, arms full of several pots, which he set on the stove, and gave him exactly the kind of frown such a suggestion deserved. "Alfred will know _exactly_ where it came from," he informed him. "I already told you what we're making. That's final."

"Suit yourself." Jason shrugged. He squinted at the recipe card for shrimp scampi, before watching Bruce's preparations, filling the pot with water, setting it on the stovetop to boil, getting out the stick of butter to go in the pan with the shrimp. "Are you sure you can even make this?"

"It was my mother's recipe."

"What?" His mother made shrimp scampi? That sounded… weird.

Bruce stared at him, package of shrimp in one hand, the scissors he was going to open said bag of shrimp with in the other hand. "The apple pie. It was my mother's recipe."

"Oh," Jason said, because what else was there to say to that? "I thought… I thought Alfred did all the cooking around here." Or at least that he did all the cooking when he was around here to put a stop to Bruce's culinary experiments.

Bruce dumped the contents of the bag into a pan, crumpling the bag and tossing it into the garbage can. "Not when it came to that pie. No one made pie quite like she did." His face became wistful for a brief moment, before switching back to steel. "Chop the apples, Jason!"

"We don't even have a pie crust yet!" Jason protested.

Bruce cracked his knuckles. "Leave that to me."

Ten minutes later and, aside from the mess that seemed to have magically appeared on the counter, there didn't seem to be any progress made.

The… crust, if it could even be called that stubbornly refused to be anything more that a wet, sticky ball of goo. "Isn't it supposed to be dry?" Jason had asked, prompting Bruce to add more flour, which resulted in a dry, flaky dough that wouldn't stick together… no matter how much kneading it received.

Jason had finished chopping the third apple, tossing the bits into the bowl they had placed on the counter for that express purpose.

Bruce had already turned away from the dismal pie crust, either deciding it was good enough for now or giving up on it completely, instead moving to stir what was in the pan.

The scent was already beginning to waft and Jason breathed deep, his mouth watering. Despite his earlier misgivings, if this tasted as good as it smelled, then he just might be willing to admit that Bruce actually could cook.

He smirked. Like that would ever happen.

Still, he peeked at the crumbly dough, it didn't look like that was likely anyways.

"How're those apples coming, Jason?"

"Um…" Jason took another glance at the recipe card. "There are supposed to be… three? No… six apples… and… oatmeal?" He made a face. "I didn't know oatmeal went into apple pie!"

Suddenly, the idea of pie seemed a lot less appealing.

He puckered his lips and shook his head at Bruce. "Oatmeal doesn't go in a pie!"

"It goes in that pie." Bruce gestured with his eyes, then cursed as his attention was drawn back to the sizzling mess in front of him.

How had he managed to let it burn while he was _watching_ it?

Yeah, Bruce wasn't going to be improving any time soon.

He tossed the rest of the sliced apple into the bowl and turned.

"You sure you got that under control there, Bruce?" he asked.

Bruce faced him and Jason's eyebrows shot towards his hairline. There was _fire_ in his eyes. "Yes," he said firmly, pointing with the spoon. Something in his growl suggested otherwise.

His eyes, however, challenged Jason to contradict him.

Jason didn't.

"This is going just fine."

"Okay." Jason held his hands out innocently.

Bruce eyed him suspiciously for several seconds, before turning back to the pan. "How're those apples coming?"

"Done."

Bruce furrowed his eyebrows before leaving his post at the stove, and gently pushing Jason aside to reach the cabinet over his head, knocking several spices aside in his haste.

Jason stared at him as if he'd lost his marbles. "What are you doing?"

"Cinnamon." Bruce grasped the tiny spice shaker.

"I could have done that!" Jason protested, as Bruce measured out a careful teaspoon.

Ten minutes later and Jason was sitting at the large dining table, crunching an apple and reading the latest issue of _Daredevil_ he'd picked up after school the day before _,_ having decided that it was best to let Bruce have at it himself.

Actually… it was more like Bruce had come to the conclusion that he was perfectly capable of achieving success on his own and had sent Jason out to do as he saw fit.

Within reason, of course, he'd been sure to add.

No taking the Bat-cycle out for a spin or blowing anything up.

The guy knew how to take the fun out of anything.

Still, if it meant a chance to get out of the kitchen, Jason would be willing to put up with a little boredom.

Besides, if one failure hadn't taught the man he couldn't cook, he really wasn't sure what would.

Best to just let this run its course and deal with the consequences later, he figured.

Something furry nudged his knee and he peered under the table.

"Ace!" He rubbed the dog between the ears. Ace whined happily, tail thumping the table.

"Bruce is cooking," Jason told him. Ace whined again. Jason laughed. "Yeah, I know. But maybe you'll get the scraps. If anything's edible, that is."

Bruce finally emerged from the kitchen and Jason was a little surprised at how… in one piece he looked, minus the frustration clearly written across his face.

He'd half expected him to be a little… singed to say the least.

"So…" Jason was almost afraid to ask. "You done?"

"Yes." He rubbed his hands off on the dishcloth he'd brought with him.

"Oh." Jason's heart plummeted along with his stomach. He'd hoped that maybe it had disintegrated somehow, but, as fate would have it, he wasn't going to be that lucky.

"Don't look so disappointed." Bruce frowned at him and tossed the dishcloth on the counter. "You might actually like it this time."

Jason snorted, but had the wisdom to remain silent when Bruce shot him a withering glare.

 _And pigs would fly._

It turned out to be worse than he thought.

He'd managed to burn the pasta. Half of it was sticking to the bottom of the pan. And pasta was supposed to be so easy too! Jason had even managed it before!

The scampi sauce was even worse.

He was sure half the spices Bruce had used didn't even belong in a sauce. And the shrimp… the shrimp had somehow ended up as shriveled pink knots. _How had that even happened?_

Jason stared at it for what seemed like a long while.

The pie wasn't much better, sitting on the counter, waiting to be put in the oven, as Bruce had been obviously too hard at work trying (and failing) to get the scampi cooked.

Jason poked at it suspiciously, before taking a quick whiff and recoiling in horror.

Figured Bruce would end up using _chili powder_ instead of cinnamon.

"Bruuuce!" he whined. "You used _chili powder?_ "

"What?" Bruce's brow actually crinkled in consternation as he hurried to examine the pie.

Sniffing it briefly, he gagged and staggered backwards. "I thought…" He broke off into a fit of coughing. "We can't eat that," he said, recovering himself.

"So get rid of it," Jason said. He had his doubts that it would be edible even for Ace. "We can just toss it out and," he grabbed the phone, holding it out, "we can always call out for pizza."

 **XxX**

Alfred stepped in the door, following closely behind a worn out Dick and sniffing the air cautiously. "My word, Master Bruce, what have the two of you been up to?"

"It's just pizza, Alfred!" Jason crowed, looking absolutely victorious as he rushed out to greet them. "Domino's! Pepperoni and cheese!"

"Pizza?" Dick raised his eyebrows in surprise. They almost never had pizza, especially not the restaurant variety. Alfred's cooking was amazing, yes, but this was a welcome surprise. "I could definitely go for some of that."

"Hmph." Alfred inhaled again carefully. "It smells like a bit more than just pizza, young sir."

"Oh, that." Jason waved a hand carelessly through the air. "Just… Bruce's cooking." Noticing their expressions, he hurried on, "But it's okay now! Nothing ruined… this time."

"I see," Alfred commented dryly, even as the corner of his mouth twitched. He shook his head. "Ah, Master Bruce," he sighed, slipping past Dick and Jason to head to the kitchen, "will you never learn?"

Dick shared a glance with Jason. "I don't think he will."

 **XxX**

 **A/N Okay, the whole thing with the cinnamon and the chili powder actually came very close to happening me once before. I wasn't make apple pie, but it was some other dessert, and I, with my head in the clouds as usual, grabbed the chili powder instead of the cinnamon. Fortunately, I caught myself before taking that mistake a step further, but afterwards, I couldn't help but laugh over what might have happened if I _hadn't_ stopped myself.**

 **As always, please review and I'll have the next chapter up sometime early next week!**


	14. Walk Away

**A/N This chapter is actually Barbara-centric. I love her character so much and so I wanted to devote a little more of this fic to her. I also just wanted to write about Babs taking care of herself when put into a bad situation.**

 **As always, please enjoy!**

 **XxX**

Barbara glanced up at the wall clock. Her shift at the Gotham Public Library was almost over and she was looking forward to heading home.

"Barbara?" Mrs. Harrison, the elderly librarian, called from her place behind the reference desk. She only had a few left, then she'd help Mrs. Harrison lock up and go home, where she'd relax, have dinner with her father and, if Batgirl wasn't needed tonight, catch up on a few of her shows.

Barbara looked up from her work, putting returned books back on their shelves. "Mrs. Harrison?"

The elderly woman shuffled around her desk, as the last patrons of the day walked out the door, several books each tucked under their arms.

She reached for her glasses, perched atop her mountainous up-do. She peered at her apologetically. "Would you mind emptying the bathroom trash for me, dear? It's the last thing that needs to be done before closing."

Barbara looked up, putting the last of the books away in its proper place. Taking out the trash would only make her around five minutes late in heading home. The Dumpster was located behind the library. Not really a good place for a girl to be at this time, but there was no way she was going to allow Mrs. Harrison do this.

Barbara wheeled the cart back to its place behind the desk. "Of course."

The woman smiled gratefully and Barbara got a glimpse of her exhaustion peeking through the cracks. It had been a long day. "Thank you, Barbara."

"It's no trouble." Barbara put on her best, warmest smile. Really, it wasn't.

The woman sighed, shaking her head. "Really, where would I be without you, Barbara?"

"You'd be without someone to take out your garbage, that's for sure," Barbara joked, earning a light slap on the wrist from Mrs. Harrison.

"You smart aleck, you!" she scolded, but the fondness was clear in her eyes. "Go take out the trash and don't get yourself into any trouble, you hear?"

"I hear," Barbara answered over her shoulder as she tied the bag from the trash can nearest the reference desk closed, before replacing it with a new one she'd grabbed from the drawer.

The Gotham wind blew her hair in her face as she stepped outside and settling a chill in her bones.

She shivered, tucking her hair back, and stepped carefully down the stairs and into the wide alley beside the library.

The sun was already setting, leaving just enough light to see by, and she sighed, trudging to the Dumpster and hauling the trash bag along with her.

Barbara lifted the lid, hoisting the trash bag in and dusted off her hands.

She took a step back, finally allowing herself a weary sigh of relief.

It _had_ been a long day. She was happy to be heading home.

"Hey, sweetheart." Barbara gasped, as a hand caught hold of her wrist, spinning her around so that she was face to face with her antagonist.

He was a young man, hair spiked, ear piercings, tattoos running up and down his arms.

He smiled at her, but there was nothing friendly or charming there.

Barbara narrowed her eyes dangerously, even as her heart rate increased.

Stupid. She'd been stupid. Tired and anxious to go home, she'd forgotten to pay attention to her surroundings.

"Let go of me," she warned, keeping her voice low. She didn't want this to turn into a physically violent altercation, but if she had to fight him, she would.

"Why would I do that, sweetheart? You and I were obviously meant for each other." Was that his idea of a pickup line? Barbara almost gagged. "No one has to get hurt," he coaxed, that damn smile never wavering.

"No," Barbara plastered on her best fake smile, "but someone damn well will if you don't let go of my arm right now. Just walk away and I won't hurt you."

He laughed, loud and raucous, swaying a little, and Barbara realized he had been drinking. Maybe not a lot, since he still seemed to possess basic articulation skills, but it should make him easier to deal with. "Y're funny," he slurred, still smiling that damned smile.

"I'm sorry," Barbara said, really not sorry at all, "but I really have to go. My dad is waiting for me." Which was stretching the truth only slightly. Her dad was waiting for her. Just not nearby as she was trying to imply. Hopefully, thinking that she wasn't here alone would be all that was needed to convince him to leave her be.

The man didn't seem at all concerned. "Let him wait."

Her forced smile didn't falter. "You don't want to meet him. He's the police commissioner."

He was close enough for her to smell his reeking breath now. "Your dad could be the president for all I care, hon."

Okay, here goes. She'd let this go too far.

Barbara slammed the heel of her palm into the man's chin, snapping his head back and causing him to release his grip on her hand.

"Bitch!" The man swore, spitting blood on the pavement, and Barbara turned to run.

The man grabbed for her arm again, but she tore out of his grip, felt his nails leave scratches down her arm, didn't feel the pain.

She hadn't gotten far when she felt someone grab her, dragging her back. Damnit, Drunk had a friend.

Barbara opened her mouth to scream, but the sound never left her throat as the man holding her realized what she was about to do and silenced her with a hand over her mouth.

"Not as funny," the original man gasped, rubbing his chin and looking dazed, "as I thought."

"You're crazy, Lenny!" the man holding her snapped and, furious now, Barbara reached up grabbing two fistfuls of his hair and yanking with all her might, as she slammed her heel down onto his foot.

The man cried out, releasing her, and she spun around, kneeing him in the stomach, and the man doubled over gasping.

Barbara finished it with a kick to the face, then turned on her previous attacker.

"You still think I'm 'funny?'" she snarled, seething.

The young man, Lenny, took a step back.

"H-Hey, we were just messing around," he stammered, raising his hands in surrender.

Too bad.

Barbara lunged forward, catching the man with a right hook to the face.

As he slumped against the wall, unconscious, Barbara sucked in a shaky breath, tears stinging her eyes.

What had just happened? What had just _happened?_

She wasn't Batgirl right now. She wasn't equipped with her usual gear so she was forced to just leave them and wait for the police to show up.

Turning, she staggered out of the alley and to her car. Leaning against the doorframe, she buried her face in her palms, before composing herself enough to reach for her phone.

She needed to talk to someone after that. She just needed to talk.

"Barbara? Barbara, is everything alright?" Mrs. Harrison called out, locking the library's main entranceway and carefully making her way down the steps and towards Barbara.

Her eyes roved over Barbara's disheveled appearance before alighting on the unconscious thugs. She gave a little gasp, hand flying to her mouth. "Good heavens, Barbara! What…?"

"Mrs. Harrison, please, can you call the police?" she asked, pleadingly. "Those men…"

She didn't need to go any further. Mrs. Harrington understood immediately and a spark of rage lit up her features.

"Absolutely!" she huffed indignantly. There was no doubt in her mind who was in the wrong here… and that "who" was not her star library volunteer. "Have no worries, dear!" She glared furiously at the unconscious bodies, before leaving with a shake of her head. "Young ruffians… think they own the world!" Barbara heard her mutter under her breath.

If she hadn't been so shaken, Barbara would have smiled. Mrs. Harrington was like a grandmother to her.

Barbara scrolled through her contacts. Her thumb hovered for a moment over _Dad_ before she changed her mind, selecting the one right below it, bringing the phone to her ear.

Her dad would find out once she informed the police and she didn't need to deal with his worry or his rage right now. It wouldn't do anything.

"Hello?" A cheery voice answered after the second ring. "Babs, that you?"

"Dick?" Her voice sounded shaky and breathless, even to her own ears.

"Barbara?" The change in tone was immediate. "Are you okay? Did something happen?"

"I-I'm fine." Breathe in. Breathe out. You're okay. You're fine. Breathe in. Breathe out. The words were like a mantra. "I'm fine now." She almost regretted calling him and making him worry. There was nothing he could do either.

"Barbara." Dick's words were gentle, meant to coax the truth from her. "I know you want to talk about it, because you wouldn't have called otherwise. Where are you?"

She opened the car door, sliding into the driver's seat and resting her forehead against the steering wheel. "The library," she answered. Before Dick could ask about it being after hours, she continued, "We were locking up… I was taking the trash out for her and…" Barbara swallowed. "There were these men in the alley…"

She heard a sharp intake of breath from the other end and hastened to add, "Dick, I'm fine. I mean it. Nothing happened. I took care of them." She allowed herself a small smile. Funny how she was the one reassuring him now. "I… I don't think they'll be bothering anyone for some time."

There was a shaky laugh from the other end. "You show 'em, Babs," he said and even over the phone, his grin was infectious. Then, more seriously, "Barbara, do you want me to come down there?"

"What?" That hadn't been her intention at all. She shook her head even though, over the phone, the gesture was pointless. "Dick, you can't come down here! What about your homework?"

"You really think I'm worried about my homework right now, Babs?" Dick sounded shocked. "You're going to have to wait down there for the cops anyways. Are you sure you want to do that alone? I'm sure Alfred would be willing to take me."

"No!" Barbara said, a little too quickly. Then she sighed, rubbing her forehead. "Please don't tell Alfred anything, Dick. Besides, I'll have Mrs. Harrison with me," Barbara assured him more gently, tapping her fingers on the steering wheel.

"Okay," Dick said seriously. Barbara could sense his reluctance. "Fine. I won't tell Alfred, Babs but just… please, be careful."

"Barbara!" Mrs. Harrison was hurrying back, waving the phone in her hand. "The police are on their way! We'll soon set those vagabonds straight!"

"Barbara?" Dick's voice was far away and her attention immediately returned to the phone.

"I'm still here," Barbara said. She turned her eyes back to Mrs. Harrison. "I… I have to go. The police will be here soon, but…" she quickly wiped her eyes, "thank you, Dick."

She ended the call.

 **A/N I apologize if it seems that that ended abruptly, but there's more to come next chapter, which will be out next week.**

 **Anyways, I hope you enjoyed and please review!**


	15. A Walk in the Park

**A/N Exactly a week later...**

 **Also, thank you so much to the guests who have left reviews! I can't PM my thanks to you guys, but I love hearing from you all!**

 **This chapter is a follow up from last week's... I apologize for how short it is, but next week's chapter should make up for the length.**

 **Please enjoy!**

 **XxX**

"So Jason just let you take Ace with us?" Barbara asked, raising an eyebrow. The German Shepherd trotted alongside Dick.

"It took a little bit of bribing," Dick answered, "but he came around." He grinned at her knowingly, Ace's leash firmly in hand.

"Right." Barbara rolled her eyes, but smiled along with him, and tucked her hands into the pockets of her jeans.

They were strolling along one of the many paved walkways in the Martha Wayne Memorial Park mind-morning. There weren't very many people out at this time, a few joggers, even a girl on roller skates and an elderly couple feeding the ducks.

"Hey, I can be persuasive when I want to be!" Dick protested.

"Mm-hmm. How'd you convince him this time?"

Dick laughed. "I may have had to agree to take his turn washing the cars."

"Dick!" Barbara shook her head, amused.

"Well, it worked, didn't it?" Dick asked. "Aren't you happy we have Ace?"

"I'm always happy we have Ace," Barbara snorted and knelt down to rub the dog between his ears. "Who wouldn't be?"

Dick sat on the grass next to her. "Fair point, but I'm pretty sure Catwoman might have something to say about that."

Ace rested his head in Barbara's lap and she ran her fingers through his fur. "True," Barbara acknowledged. "But we know better don't we?" she asked, addressing Ace.

Dick shook his head, amused. "Somebody's gonna think you're crazy one of these days, Babs."

Barbara raised an eyebrow playfully. "You aren't going to _tell_ anyone, are you?"

"You suggesting I have blackmail material right now?"

"A lot of people talk to dogs!" Barbara laughed. "And do I need to remind you that blackmail is illegal and that you're talking to the daughter of the police commissioner? I could testify against you, you know."

Dick chuckled and tossed a blade of grass at her. "Relax. Jason's more of a blackmailer than I am." He glanced at her. "Did I ever tell you I caught him talking to a squirrel?"

"No!" Barbara gasped, trying unsuccessfully to stifle her sudden outburst of giggles. "I think I would have remembered that!"

"He was trying to help it." Dick tilted his head back, smiling fondly at the memory. "Then it got loose in the Manor, but that was partially my fault."

Barbara leaned forward. "Okay, this I need to hear."

"All I did was hold the door open. I didn't think he had a squirrel in there."

"And so it got loose," Barbara finished for him. "Alfred was probably thrilled."

"Actually, it was Bruce who found us out." He paused. "Though it turned out that Alfred already knew about it. Sometimes I wonder which one of them is actually… you know." He doesn't say the name, despite the fact that there was no one else close enough to hear. Family protocol. He grinned anyway.

"Not surprising," Barbara observed. "Alfred raised him, didn't he?"

"Yeah." Dick frowned, catching sight of Barbara's arm. "Babs… your arm… you didn't tell me."

"Dick!" Barbara protested as Dick took her arm gently. The scratches left there a few days ago were already healed for the most part, having not been all that serious, but they were still present. That didn't mean she wanted attention drawn to them though!

Dick scowled at the marks. "You didn't tell me one of them had hurt you."

Barbara carefully withdrew her arm, resting it across Ace's neck. "It's fine now, Dick," she told him.

"And what if they'd really hurt you, Babs?" Dick asked unhappily, looking grim. "What if it had been more than just a scratch?"

"They didn't and it wasn't," Barbara said firmly. She reached out, her fingers brushing against his. "I can take care of myself, remember?"

"Yeah." Dick smiled gently and gave her hand a squeeze, before letting go. "Pity the poor thug who thinks he can take on Batgirl."

Barbara smiled in return and chose not to comment on the fact that he had just broken protocol.

After all, who was there to hear but them?


	16. Vengeance

**A/N** I apologize for the long wait for this chapter: I've been working on my latest story, Learning to Live Again, and several other one shots that will be published separately.

I will be working on the next chapter, but I can't promise when it will be out.

 **To all my guest reviewers:** I've received a number of truly lovely guest reviews on different stories of mine and, since I can't respond in any other way, I want you all to know how much I appreciate you taking the time to leave a couple of kind words. They always make me smile! :)

 **Warning:** This chapter is darker than all the others before it and deals with kidnapping, violence against a child, and attempted murder... with a healthy dose of fluff at the end of course.

 **Chapter Sixteen: Vengeance**

* * *

Jason awoke to a cold, tile floor and a pounding headache. His mouth was dry, tongue feeling thick and swollen, sticking to the roof of his mouth.

 _That would be the drugs._ A voice whispered in his head, but his mind was so foggy that he wasn't sure where it came from.

He moaned, curling up a little tighter, before attempting to stretch out his limbs, which felt jelly-like and unresponsive.

Jason moaned again, cracking open an eye and taking note of his surroundings.

He was in a kitchen. That was new.

He was lying on white tile, curled with his back against what felt like a cabinet or a counter of some sort. He could see what looked to be an oven and… and a sink.

A sink. He perked up a little.

 _Water._

He wanted water so bad.

It was so close. If he could just get his body to cooperate enough for him to move, he'd be able to make it there.

But his body had been reduced to nothing but a ragdoll, drugs rendering him nearly incapable of moving.

A sob of frustration worked its way up his throat.

"You're awake." A pudgy, balding man stepped into his line of sight. The man crouched down in front of him, squinting his eyes, and Jason cringed back as much as he was able.

The man gave an almost imperceptible sigh of relief. "I was worried I'd used too much on you. How do you feel?"

Jason said nothing, glaring at him instead. This man had kidnapped him, had _drugged_ him, and now he had the nerve to act as if he were concerned?

"Nothing?" The man sighed, leaning back on his haunches. "I had a feeling you would be this way."

"Who" Jason struggled to get the words out around his thick tongue, "who are you?"

The man seemed startled by his question. "Owen Rogers," he said. "Owen Rogers."

Jason was confused, struggling to dredge up a coherent memory from the drug-induced sludge.

Was he supposed to know this guy?

The man-Owen Rogers- seemingly sensed his confusion because the next instant, his fingers had gripped the front of Jason's T-shirt, dragging him forward until they were face to face. Jason cried out, latching his hand weakly around the man's thick wrist.

"I worked for your father's company," he hissed. The sudden change in demeanor was frightening. "Until he let me go."

He released Jason's shirt, dropping the boy back down to the ground.

Jason gasped as he hit the floor, coughing.

The man stared at him for several long seconds, before shaking his head and standing up. "Water," he muttered. He stepped over to the sink and there was the sound of running water, before Rogers was crouched in front of Jason again.

Jason noticed the cup held in his hand and struggled to sit up, desperate for water.

Rogers crinkled his brow, studying Jason. "No, this isn't going to work at all," he grunted, placing the cup on the counter, and Jason's heart sank. No! What was he doing? Had he brought water just to taunt him with it.

Jason's head sank to the floor and he let out an exhausted sob.

Then, the man's hands were gripping his shoulders, lifting him up and propping his back up against the counter side.

Jason stared at him questioningly, before the man placed the water cup in his hand.

"Here," he said. "Slowly!" he warned, alarmed, as, eagerly, Jason brought the cup to his lips.

But Jason couldn't help it, greedily sucking it down as fast he could. His throat felt like it was coated in sandpaper, and the water, soothing the soreness, felt more heavenly then anything had in a long time.

He choked halfway through the glass, spewing what he had already managed to swallow all over the floor and barely missing Rogers' knees.

Too bad he'd missed, Jason thought blearily. The jerk deserved it.

Rogers jumped back and suddenly the back of his hand cracked across Jason's cheek, snapping his head back. Jason gasped, tumbling over and landing in a miserable heap on the floor.

"I _told_ you to slow down!" he panted. Something like remorse appeared briefly on his face, before he knelt down again.

He grabbed Jason's arm in a too tight grip, setting him upright again. Jason grit his teeth as the man's fingers dug into his arm, before releasing him.

Jason slumped back against the counter, gasping.

"Try now," the man grunted, holding the cup to his lips. He held Jason's head back, tilting the cup.

Jason spluttered, water dribbling down his chin, but he managed to hold all of it down this time.

All too soon, the man pulled the cup away and stood, staring down at him as the boy coughed on the floor, before he tossed a rag to the floor.

"Clean it up," he told him tonelessly and left, footsteps receding down a hallway.

Jason remembered what the man had said earlier. Something about working for Bruce's company.

What did that have to do with anything?

He slowly reached out, shaking fingers closing around the rag, and worked at cleaning up the mess. It was significantly harder than it should have been and, when he was finished, he couldn't bring himself to move anymore.

Laying his head down on the floor, he squeezed his eyes shut tight.

Maybe, when he opened them, he'd be somewhere else.

This would all be just a dream.

Jason wondered vaguely if maybe Alfred had any of those cookies left over. He'd wake up in his room, go downstairs, and Alfred would be there, ready to talk it over.

His bottom lip trembled and he pressed his face deeper into the floor. But it wasn't a dream. He was trapped here, a pathetic pile of self-pity on the floor.

But he was alone.

He was alone, at least for a little while.

And if he could convince his body to move, then he might have a chance, however small, of getting out of here on his own.

Jason struggled to push himself to his hands and knees.

"You're not looking to try anything now, are you?" the man asked. He gave Jason a sad little smile, toeing the dirtied rag out of the way. "You can't leave. Not yet. Not before things have been made right. Bruce Wayne needs to know how it feels."

Too late.

Jason let himself collapse back onto the floor, choking on a small gasp.

It was too late.

He'd lost his chance before he'd fully been able to grasp it.

"Why are you doing this?" he asked, wincing at how weak his voice sounded. Something about this man was… off. Circumstances aside, he came across almost as halfway decent, if you didn't consider that there was probably some kind of psychopath underneath it all.

Almost immediately, he felt like that was the wrong question to ask.

The man stiffened and his hand formed a trembling fist.

"Tell me… Jason," he said, crouching before the boy again. He grasped him by the chin, forcing him to look into his eyes. "Do you consider your father, that _bastard_ of a billionaire, to be a fair and just man?"

 _Not before things have been made right?_

What the hell?

Jason pulled back, frightened by the intense hatred in the man's eyes. Fair and just? What was he talking about? Did he somehow know Bruce was Batman? Was that what this was about? And how did working for Bruce fit into this?

Unsure and afraid to take his eyes off the man, Jason nodded.

Rogers gave a snort of disgust, releasing the boy's chin. "Of course you would," he sneered. "After all, the man practically raised you. You wouldn't see anything wrong with him. What would you say if I told you that man cost me my family, my livelihood, my _life?_ "

"N-no." Jason shook his head vehemently. Whatever this man was talking about, it wasn't Bruce. He was _wrong!_ "You're lying!"

"You think I'm _lying?"_ The man grabbed Jason's shoulders, shaking him roughly. His face had taken on a shade of red roughly the same hue as a ripe tomato. " _Lying?"_

Then, just as suddenly, the color disappeared and he let go of Jason's shoulders, allowing the boy to slump back against the counter.

Rogers' face crumbled and Jason wondered for a split second if the man was about to cry. No tears came.

"I had a wife once, a family." He shook his head and began to pace the kitchen. "But then Wayne fired me! He didn't appreciate me! He undervalued me! _Me!"_ He gestured frantically at himself and the sheer outrage on his face was almost laughable. "They had me put away! For stealing from the company, they said! I had a _family!_ Amanda couldn't take it." He went back to pacing, this time wiping at his eyes with his sleeve. "She left me! My _wife_ left me. Said I wasn't fit to be a father. Said I wasn't fit for _her!_ She took my son with her! And when Sammy… I was in _prison!_ I had no say! I couldn't stop her from discontinuing treatment." And then the rage drained from his face and all Jason could see was a grieving father.

"Bruce didn't make her leave," Jason whispered. There was something sad and pathetic there. "He didn't kill your son."

"He put me in _jail_ , kid!" the man snarled, dabbing at his red, puffy eyes. He bent over, crouching again before Jason. "I can _never_ put my life back together because of him! Sammy is _gone_ and Amanda…" His voice broke and he buried his face in his hands. "Amanda, why?" he sobbed and Jason shrank back against the counter, staring at the bereaved man with wide eyes.

There was no way this man was in any way rational, which made him all the more dangerous.

This man was broken, with nothing left to live for except revenge.

 _Bruce Wayne needs to know how it feels._

A strangled sob formed at the back of Jason's throat.

Rogers was going to kill him.

This was all some revenge stunt to get back at Bruce for the tragedies in his life that he needed someone to blame for.

Someone had to pay.

And that someone, it would seem, was Bruce Wayne.

And, by default, Jason.

It was starting to make a terrifying sort of sense.

And, since Batman hadn't showed up, it was likely that, if he wanted to live, Jason would have to get himself out of this mess.

He shifted, eyes never leaving the man's face, and he realized that his limbs no longer felt like they were detached from his body, which meant… he had a chance.

A chance if he would only just take it.

Jason straightened his spine, feeling slightly more confident as he watched Rogers.

He'd been trained by Batman, hadn't he?

Surely, he could manage to get himself out of this scrape.

"Wayne doesn't know what it's like to feel pain," Rogers spat. He was still too caught up in his own pain and rage, too confident that everything was going the way he wanted it to, to pay much actual attention to Jason. "And he won't. Not until I show him."

Now or never.

Jason lurched forward, scrambling to his feet, bare feet slapping against the tile as he made a dash for where he assumed the door would be.

Rogers shouted for him to stop, but Jason ignored him.

He was getting out of here! He was home free…!

Except… whatever drug was in his body still hadn't completely left his system and he felt his legs crashing underneath him before he'd even made it halfway.

Rogers' hand grasped his shirt collar, yanking him back before he could hit the floor, and Jason choked, hands automatically flying to his throat.

Roger flung him back and Jason crashed to the floor with a cry.

No, no, no!

Tears burned at the corners of his eyes, pain and desperation mingling inside him.

So close!

He'd been so close, making defeat all that much more painful.

Bile rose in his throat and he coughed it back down as Rogers towered over him.

"Thought you could run?" Rogers snarled, grasping the boy by his shirt lapels and hauling him back to his feet.

"No!" Jason gasped, hands latching onto the man's thick wrist. He kicked out and immediately, Rogers' face crumpled in pain and he released his hold, dropping the boy back to the ground.

Jason rolled over onto his stomach, hoping to crawl away before Rogers had a chance to recover.

Rogers was instantly upon him, hands grasping his shoulders to pull him back.

Jason thrashed, kicking out in a futile attempt to get away from the much larger man.

"Help!" he called out, twisting in the general direction of the door. Rogers flinched. _Oh please, let there be someone else in this building._ " _Hel-mmph!"_

Rogers clamped a sweaty hand over his mouth, muffling the boy's scream.

"None of that!" he hissed, but the glance he shot in the direction of the door gave Jason hope.

He was nervous. Which meant there were other people in this building.

Other people who might hear him.

Jason squirmed, twisting his head, fighting to get away.

If he could make more noise, something that would guarantee someone would hear him…

Rogers climbed to his feet, hauling Jason up with him and dragging him back into the kitchen.

Jason fought with all he was worth, which, considering the drugs still in his system, honestly wasn't saying much, still struggling to make a sound.

It wasn't long, however, before Rogers deposited him on the kitchen floor, before rummaging through a storage drawer off to the side.

Jason coughed, scrambling to sit up, before Rogers was suddenly upon him again, a roll of duct tape in his hand.

Jason's eyes widened and he moved backwards. "N-no!"

"Shut up!" Rogers snapped, eyes blazing. "Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!"

He tore off a piece of tape, reaching for Jason and Jason thrust himself backwards. "No!"

Rogers grabbed him anyways, straddling him to hold him in place, as he forcefully pressed the tape tight over his lips.

Jason instinctively reached for the tape, striving to pull it off, but Rogers catches hold of his wrists before he can.

Jason fought to remember to breathe through his nose as the big man transferred both his wrists into one meaty hand, still holding the duct tape with one hand.

"I don't think so," he hissed, releasing his hands long enough to roll him onto his stomach, before yanking them both behind his back.

Jason struggled violently, realizing what he intended to do.

The thought of being completely helpless with this man was terrifying.

Rogers pressed a knee into the small of his back and Jason cried out, the sound muffled through the gag, as Roger wrapped the tape several times around his wrists.

Then his arms are released, and the pressure is gone from his back.

Jason groaned, rolling over onto his side, and allowed his head to droop down to the tiles.

Something banged on the door. "Rogers! I know you're in there! Open up!"

Jason's eyes widened, and he glanced at Rogers, who'd frozen like ice.

This was what he'd been hoping for, but, now that it was happening, he was terrified at what it might mean for him.

Rogers stayed where he was for a moment, as if he were debating whether or not to go to the door. Would opening the door allay any suspicion or heighten it?  
"Rogers! Open up or I'm calling the cops!"

Fire flashed across his face for the briefest of instants, but, with his decision made for him, Rogers had no choice but to go to the door.

"Burt, what…?"

"The screaming. What's going on?"

Jason perked up, hope alighting in his chest. Someone _had_ heard him!

He heard a nervous laugh from Rogers. "You know me, Burt. I like to keep the TV on a little too loud."

Jason almost rolled his eyes at that. The man at the door couldn't be _that_ dumb, right? Honestly, maybe he _had_ been watching a bit too much TV if that was the best he could come up with.

"Right," whoever was at the door snorted. "I call bullshit on that one."

There was the sound of a body being pushed aside.

"Wait!" Rogers shouted, and footsteps pounded after the other man. "Don't do this, Burt!"

A man's face suddenly appeared over the counter. "What the hell is this, Rogers?" the man demanded angrily, but then there was a loud _thwack_ and the man crumpled to the floor.

Rogers stood behind him, a sizeable book in his hands. "Stupid, stupid, stupid," he muttered. Rogers stormed around the counter, coming to a stop when he stood before Jason. "Your fault!" he growled. "Your fault this is messed up!" Jason cringed back as the man reached for him. He let out a muffled cry of pain as the man grabbed his upper arm, fingers digging painfully into his flesh.

Rogers lifted him up off the floor and Jason's shoulders screeched painfully at the unnatural position they were forced into.

He kicked out, catching Rogers' knee with his foot. The blow wasn't nearly as hard as it would have been had it not felt like half his strength had been forcibly drained from his body, but Rogers still cried out, dropping Jason in surprise.

Jason fell to the ground. Pain jarred his elbow, lancing its way up the rest of his arm, and he stiffled a cry.

Any second now, Rogers might recover and…

There was a sound of crashing glass, and Rogers flinched, jerking towards the sound.

Jason clenched his eyes shut.

" _You!"_ Rogers snarled. Something shattered, presumably as Rogers swung at someone and missed. "You don't know!" Another crash. "What he's done!"

There was a grunt as something pounded onto soft flesh. And then a muffled "thud" as a body hit the floor.

Jason remembered the neighbor who'd heard his screams and closed his eyes tighter. Had Rogers killed this man too?

He pressed himself against the cabinet, trying to make himself smaller.

Maybe Rogers was the one who'd been killed.

The thought briefly entered his mind, before footsteps sounded on the tile floor.

He cringed, refusing to open his eyes.

"Jason? Jason, it's me." A familiar voice carrying a sense of urgency and a hand on his shoulder.

Jason opened his eyes, feeling his muscles begin to relax, as some of the tension left him.

Batman- _Bruce-_ was there, kneeling in front of him and Jason could almost sob with relief.

He was safe.

"It's okay, Jason. You're safe," Batman said. His gloved hand reached for the tape across Jason's mouth, pulling it off with a gentleness nearly unknown to the Batman.

"Are you okay?" Batman asked, using a Batarang to slice through the bonds on Jason's wrists. "Did he hurt you?" He helped Jason to sit up, keeping a steadying hand on his arm.

Jason shook his head quickly. "N-no." He could feel himself beginning to tremble and clung to him, burying his face against Batman- _Bruce's-_ chest.

Bruce held him tighter. "Shh. It's okay. It's okay," he soothed. "You're safe."

The man who'd done this lay unconscious in the living room, hands bound.

Batman sent a furious glare in his direction.

Tears leaked from Jason's eyes. "I'm sorry," he whispered frantically. "Shouldn't have gone… should have stayed with Alfred, but…" he half-hiccuped, half-sobbed and shook his head, "I wanted to see the comics. Then he was there. I'm sorry!"

Bruce threaded his fingers through Jason's hair. "It's okay, Jason," he reassured him. "You don't have anything to be sorry for."

XxX

Bruce made his way down the hallway towards Jason's bedroom. Owen Rogers, former employee of Wayne Enterprises, had already been arrested. He was going away for a very long time.

Bruce paused directly outside of Jason's door.

He'd almost lost him today.

The realization was like a punch to the gut, leaving him shaken to the core.

He'd taken both Dick and Jason in with the knowledge that he would do everything in his power to protect them.

The fact that he almost failed to do so was weighing heavily on his chest.

He stepped in the room, not sure what he was going to find, but stopped when he noticed the scene in front of him.

Jason was on the floor, head resting on Ace's stomach, asleep, even as the dog curled protectively around him.

Ace lifted his head when Bruce entered the room, tail thumping slowly against the floor, but the dog didn't move when Bruce entered the room and crossed the distance to them with a number of steps.

"Good boy, Ace," Bruce whispered, crouching down next to them. He carded his fingers slowly through Jason's dark hair. The boy stirred, whimpering in his leap, and Bruce froze, wondering how exactly things would go if Jason awoke to find him hovering above him.

Jason didn't awaken, however, and Ace went back to resting his chin on the floor, though the dog's eyes never left Bruce.

Bruce moved his hand, giving Ace a quick scratch under his chin.

"Thank you," he told him, "for taking care of him."


	17. A Father's Instinct

I'm sorry this chapter was such a long time coming... and that it's such a short one at that, but it's one I needed to get off my chest as I worked to finish _Learning to Live Again_.

In any case, I'd like to thank all my lovely reviewers. Seriously. You guys are amazing!

Enjoy!

 **Chapter Seventeen: A Father's Instinct**

* * *

"Bruce," the Commissioner said tiredly, warily. "I'm not so sure that this is a good idea."

Bruce's fist tightened at his side. "I need to see him," he growled, determined.

Gordon looked at him. "After everything this man did… to Jason… I'm not sure you being in the same room with him is the wisest choice."

"And if it had been Barbara, Jim…" Bruce countered fiercely. It was a low blow and he knew it, but if it got him in that room, he would use it.

"I would be doing the same thing in your place," Jim finished for him. He pushed his glasses up his face, rubbing a hand over his eyes. He sighed. "Five minutes. But I can't let you talk to him alone."

Bruce nodded, his face deliberately a mask. "Fine."

Jim nodded to the heretofore silent pair of officers who had accompanied them and the first one unlocked and opened the door to the interrogation room.

The man, Owen Roger, former Wayne Enterprises employee, fired after he was caught embezzling Bruce's mind supplied him, sat at the table, handcuffed hands calmly clasped in front of him.

He looked up as Jim entered the room, looking surprisingly peaceful for someone who nearly murdered a twelve year old boy.

Something murderous stirred in Bruce's gut, a white hot rage. He forced it down, but still felt it, simmering just below the surface.

"Someone hear to see you, Rogers," Jim said as Bruce stepped in beside him.

Rogers eyes alighted on Bruce and he smiled. "Hello, Mr. Wayne," he said serenely.

Jim put a restraining hand on Bruce's shoulder. Bruce ignored the hand and took a seat opposite him. "You almost killed him," Bruce ground out.

"And then you would understand my pain," Rogers snapped back. "My son is _dead,"_ he spat. "Because of you, my wife left me! Because of you my son died! Twelve years old is older than Sammy ever lived to be!"

And for a moment, Bruce felt something akin to pity for this man. This man who had lost everything.

But then it was gone.

Bruce's face hardened. "Do you think for one second that your son would be proud of the monster you've become?" he asked. "Is that the kind of father he deserved?"

"Don't talk about Sammy!" Rogers snarled, slamming his fists down on the table. He would have made an attempt to stand had Jim not rushed to hold him down. "Don't you dare talk about him! You took him from me." Rogers had worked himself into a full blown rage, spittle flying from his mouth as he struggled under Jim's grip.

"Don't make me call in backup," Jim muttered, holding Rogers down. "Because you aren't going to like that." His attention turned to Bruce. "This conversation is over," Jim said firmly, giving Bruce a pointed look, even as Rogers growled and kicked.

Bruce nodded grimly, getting up from his seat and moving towards the door. There was nothing more to be gained from talking with this man.

He wanted to hit something-some _one_. Jason had been in the hands of this madman for two hours. _Two hours!_

And if the Batman hadn't gotten there, Bruce Wayne would be mourning a son.

His mind froze on an image-on a memory-of Jason terrified, clinging to him, like there was no tomorrow. He remembered the rage he felt-how he wanted to hurt the one who was the cause of that terror, the cause of the nightmares the boy was now having.

It was a father's instinct to protect his child.

And he'd come so close to losing Jason forever.

He was shaken from his morose thoughts by Jim's approach from behind. "Bruce."

Bruce faced him.

"He's going away for a long time," Jim said. "The man killed his wife. Did you know that?"

No, he hadn't. It was rare that the police knew something that the Batman didn't.

Something cold washed its way over Bruce.

The man was sick.

But he was going away.

Perhaps for life.

And Bruce Wayne had the power to ensure it.

Owen Rogers would never lay another hand on Jason Todd again.

* * *

I'm thinking there might be one more (short, but hopefully a little longer than this) chapter dealing with this storyline: one with Dick and Jason, since we didn't see Dick last chapter. And he's such a good big brother that of course he's going to help Jason get through this.

Until next time!


	18. Brother's Care

**Holy crap, I haven't updated since October. I'm so sorry for that! Still, even with the delay, I hope all you lovely people enjoy this (short) update.**

* * *

Jason was sitting on his bed, back turned towards the door. Ace was at his side, as he often had been these past few days.

Jason's arm was currently around the dog's neck as he leaned up against the large animal, taking comfort from his presence.

Dick stepped into the room. He hadn't really had a chance to talk to his brother after, well, everything that had happened with Owen Rogers.

"Hey," Dick said, keeping his voice gentle.

It didn't help.

Jason still startled, spinning around quickly, as if he expected Dick to be an enemy, and Dick flinched.

He should have been more careful.

After what happened, of _course_ Jason was going to be on edge.

Ace's tail thumped against the bed once as he turned to look at Dick.

"Hey, it's just me," Dick said, raising his hands slowly, as he moved closer.

"Dick?"

"Yeah, it's me." Carefully, he took a seat on the bed, watching Jason closely. "How are you feeling?"

There was a moment of silence. Dick was afraid he wasn't going to get an answer.

Then, carefully, Jason shrugged his shoulders. "I'm fine."

Dick didn't miss the way his hand tightened around Ace's neck.

Dick sighed. He didn't want to push him, but he didn't want him to think he had to keep everything inside.

He already knew that stuffing it all down deep would only make things worse in the long run.

"You don't have to pretend," he said, trying to sound as neutral as he could manage. Maybe "pretend" hadn't been the best choice of word, considering the flash of immediate defensiveness that flared across Jason's face for the barest of an instant before he regained his impassivity.

"I'm _fine_ ," Jason reasserted firmly. "How the hell would you know?"

"Jason…" He didn't mention the expletive. That was Alfred's job.

Anyways, it wasn't all that bad. But Jason would most definitely not appreciate a reprimand. Not now.

And that was not what Dick was here for.

"It's happened to all of us before." He wasn't trying to say it was no big deal. _We all go through crap sometimes, so get over it already._

It was a _you're not alone. We've all experienced it before._

Danger. Abductions. The kind of mortal terror that comes when your life is threatened.

That little voice in the back of your head that whispers you might just not make it home.

Gotham was a dangerous city.

They led a dangerous life.

 _But this hadn't happened as Robin. This wasn't because of the nightlife._  
This was because of someone with a vendetta against Bruce Wayne.

And that was made it scarier.

Living the life of a vigilante was asking for this kind of trouble.

But as Dick Grayson and Jason Todd? They were just kids, trying to live a normal life.

So what if their adoptive father also happened to be Bruce Wayne?

It wasn't fair that their life could be uprooted anytime someone with a grudge decided to crop up.

Jason's shoulders lifted in a little half shrug.

"You and Bruce have always been able to get away," he said finally. "If I'm Robin, I need to be able to take care of myself." He gave a little snort. "I did a better job of it on the street."

"Jay, no," Dick said. "You shouldn't have had to take care of yourself on the streets in the first place." He swallowed. The streets were no place for a kid who had no one to look out for him. Jason had had to watch his own back. "And now… now we look out for each other." He hesitated, before reaching over and placing his arm around Jason's back.

The boy stiffened, but he didn't scoot away from Dick.

That was a good sign. Dick inched closer before gently tugging his brother to him. Jason fell against his chest.

Dick wrapped his other arm protectively around him, holding him close.

He'd almost lost him.

And, after everything, Dick Grayson couldn't handle another loss.

Jason's balled fist had latched onto his shirt, gripping it tightly.

He was trembling.

Dick remembered everything Bruce did, everything Alfred did, when he was still a nine year old boy, traumatized by the sudden death of his parents.

"Hey, it's okay now," he said, rubbing his hand over Jason's back in small circles. "It's going to be okay."

And, somehow, he knew it would.


	19. Pretty Poison

**A/N** Chapter nineteen at last! And it _didn't_ take me three or months to shell it out!

So... I decided that I wanted to use a villain that wasn't the Joker or someone invented for the sole purpose of that single story. I was reluctant to use Poison Ivy at first, but then I figured, "What the heck?" and decided to use her anyways. I went with her New 52 appearance though. She can have sex appeal, but when she's wearing nothing more than just a few leaves... yeah, that's a bit much.

A very big thank you to all my very patient readers/reviewers!

* * *

The stench of flowers was overwhelming, almost nauseating. The foliage curled and writhed around Nightwing's ankles, pulsing with life.

Creepy.

But then again, so was nearly everything involving Pamela Isley, AKA Poison Ivy.

He brought a hand up to his Comm. "Geez, it's a _jungle_ in here! What the hell is she cooking up?"

"Focus, Nightwing," his mentor's voice scolded him. "What do you see on your end?"

"Plants," Nightwing answered drily, wrinkling his nose in disgust. "Plants… everywhere. There's no sign of Ivy. You?"

"She hasn't made an appearance," Batman said and Dick frowned.

"Doesn't sound like her," he said.

"Because you don't know me, boy," a silky voice spoke.

Something curled around both his wrists. "Hey…" They tightened, dragging him back until his back slammed against the wall.

A woman stepped out of the darkness. Her red hair spilled down over her shoulders in rippling waves. Foliage and moss grew over her, covering parts of her black bodysuit and seemingly becoming a part of her.

"Ivy!" Dick snarled, twisting against the vines holding him.

They didn't give.

"It's nice to see you too." She smiled, twirling a lock of red hair playfully.

"I suppose it wouldn't do to tell you you'll never get away with this?"  
Ivy sighed, looking slightly frustrated. "No."

"Figured. You don't seem like the type to listen anyways."

"Why do heroes always insist on being so cliche?"

"You don't like it?" Dick's eyes widened. "Geez, and I always thought cliches were charming."

Bruce's voice was in his ear, demanding to know what was going on.

Dick ignored him.

It wouldn't do to let Ivy know he wasn't here alone.

Though he figured she likely already knew or suspected the Batman was in the area.

She wasn't stupid after all.

Ivy frowned at him, decidedly unimpressed. "You're stalling," she stated.

"Stalling? Me?"

Without a word, Ivy stalked forward, plucking the two way radio from his ear.

"Hey!" Dick's protest fell on deaf ears.

"Batman, I presume?" She glanced up at Nightwing, one eyebrow arched as she rolled it between her fingers.

Dropping the device, she crushed it underfoot.

Placing her hand on his shoulder, she whispered into his ear, "Say hello to Batman for me."

And with that, she took a step back, cupping her hand to her mouth and blowing a fine mist of white powder towards his face.

* * *

"Nightwing?" Batman tried to reach his partner again.

He could hear Nightwing's voice. He was talking to Ivy, stalling her. Waiting for Bruce to show up like a hero and save the day.

Which he had every intention of doing.

Once he found out where they were.

"Batman, I presume."

He heard Ivy's voice, but she wasn't talking to him.

She was talking to Nightwing.

So she had found the device.

Then, the only sound that followed was static, indicating that it was offline.

Ivy had broken it.

 _Damn!_

Batman clenched his fist, scanning for any sign of his protege and the supervillain.

There!

He finally had a visual.

Batman shot a grapple out, swinging down and crashing through the window.

Ivy started back, the vines recoiling from Dick and gathering themselves at her feet.

"Have fun," she told him, winking playfully.

And then Dick attacked him.

* * *

He was under her spell.

That left Bruce with the question of how to stop him without hurting him.

"Nightwing!"

He grunted as his son's fist collided with his jaw. He hadn't dodged.

The next time, he blocked.

"Dick, stop this," he ordered. Dick didn't seem to hear him. "I know you're in there. Damnit, Dick!"

Dick made another swing at him. Batman caught his wrist, twisting it behind him and slamming him up against the wall.

Nightwing grunted, struggling against the hold.

"Dick," Batman growled, using his son's first name. "Stop it! I know you're in there. You can snap out of this! You don't have to let her control you. You're stronger than this!"

Nightwing broke out of his hold, ducking under his arm and dodging around him.

His heel snapped out. The strike was aimed for Batman's back.

As it was, it glanced off his shoulder instead.

Bruce felt a sudden surge of pride take him by surprise.

Dick was fast. Even under Ivy's spell, he was fast.

He had always been quick on his feet.

And he was proud of him, proud of his skill, of the man he was becoming.

Which made fighting him particularly painful.

"Dick," Bruce said again, clenching his teeth. "Think of Jason. Think of Barbara. Fight this. Don't let her win."

He was using civilian names. It was breaking protocol, but it was a way to work through to him.

Yes, Dick was fast, Bruce reflected, when he took another hit, this one to the abdomen.

Damnit! He should have been more guarded, should have been watching himself more closely.

But this was Dick!

"I don't want to hurt you," he ground out.

That didn't seem to matter to Dick. He was lashing out with everything he had.

He needed to subdue him, get him back to the cave.

And the best way to do that…

"I don't want to hurt you, Dick," he repeated, holding his hands up in a gesture of surrender. "I'm not going to fight you."

Dick stopped where he was, pausing.

And then he lunged.

Batman narrowed his eyes beneath the cowl, stepping back and allowing Dick to miss him.

He caught his arm as he did so, using his momentum to spin him around and land him on his back.

He had him pinned.

With his heavier weight and larger body mass, he was certain he could keep him that way.

He just didn't want to.

Reaching into his belt, he withdrew a canister, spraying the contents into the boy's face.

It was enough to put the boy under. Enough for him to get him back to the cave.

* * *

Dick cracked first one eye open, then the other.

A face hovered directly above his.

"Bruce?"

"Dude!" It was Jason's voice, not Bruce's. "You totally got schooled by Ivy!"

Dick groaned, the loud tone causing his headache to kick up a notch. "Tone it down, would you?" he muttered.

He couldn't be sure, but he thought Jason might be smirking.

"Jason," Bruce called, sounding just as tired as Dick felt, "leave your brother alone."

 _Thank you,_ Dick thought silently. He had a splitting headache. He didn't want to deal with an unruly brother's teasing on top of all that.

"I'm just talking to him!" Jason protested, but at least it seemed like he had moved away.

A moment later, someone else took Jason's place at his side.

"Dick?"

It was Bruce.

He felt a heavy hand rest gently on his shoulder.

"How are you feeling?"

Dick decided now might be as good a time as any to open his eyes.

He cracked them open a tiny bit, before instantly shutting them against the light.

"Like my head was just caved in," he moaned.

He remembered bits and pieces. The flowers everywhere. The fight.

"Did I hurt you?" he asked finally.

Bruce snorted in what might have been a laugh. "You hurt me?" he asked.

"Hey." Even when his head felt like it was bashed in, Dick could still sound offended. "It can happen!"

Bruce patted his shoulder lightly.

"Keep dreaming, chum."

* * *

 **A/N** When it comes to people under Poison Ivy's "spell," I've only ever seen it broken by:

a) using someone that the person loves

(e.g. Batman and Catwoman using Lois Lane to free Superman in _Batman: Hush)_

or

b) removing the plant growth from the person

(e.g. Catwoman clawing the vines off of Bruce in _Batman: The Long Halloween)_

So... yeah. Those are pretty much my only two sources. If I got something wrong, please feel free to correct me. I would appreciate it.

Until next time!


	20. Bullies

**Note:** Chapter twenty! With some more of Jay-bird after his absence for most of last chapter (and brief cameo at the end). And I'm actually getting chapters written and posted in a timely manner, lol! Or timely when compared to my previous update schedule, but it's not been that long, right? Right?

Anyways, please enjoy and thanks, as always, for sticking with me! :)

* * *

Jason squinted, scrutinizing himself in the mirror.

The bruises still showed faintly. There was only so much concealer could do after all.

But they looked less serious now and, with luck, no one would notice they were there.

He frowned, not entirely satisfied with his job covering it up, but anymore and it would likely become obvious he was hiding something.

Jason scowled, thinking back to the fight at school. There had been three of them, picking on this girl, Rebecca Long. He just hadn't expected one of them to jump him from behind.

And after that… well, it hadn't been exactly a fair fight.

And the worst part was he was _Robin!_

He _should_ have been able to take them all out.

But as Bruce Wayne's adoptive son, he wasn't supposed to be able to hold his own in a fight.

Yet adoptive Wayne or not, he'd been a street kid since his earliest days.

Jason _never_ just sat back and took it.

He'd managed to get a few hits of his own in… He still remembered Felix Young's cry of pain when his foot connected with his groin.

A knock sounded on the door. Jason hastily hid the concealer in his pants pocket, before flushing the toilet and running his hands under the water.

When he opened the door, Dick was standing there.

"There are other bathrooms, you know," he muttered. He suddenly had trouble looking him in the eyes, no longer confident in his cover-up job.

Dick, however, moved past him without comment, shutting the door behind him as he did so.

Still, the last thing Jason needed was for someone to find out and interrogate him.

Maybe he could go outside and fall out of a tree or something. That could provide an explanation for the bruises. And it wasn't like Jason hadn't fallen out of trees before.

He'd broken his arm and very nearly his neck doing just that his first week at the Manor.

Jason sighed and gave up on the idea nearly as soon as it had formed. If he did fall out of the tree, that would mean Bruce and Alfred poking and prodding at him, trying to determine how badly he was hurt.

They would know the bruises on his face weren't inflicted by falling out of a tree.

Besides, he might actually break something on the way down and he wasn't exactly keen on that.

He decided to grab Ace. If he took cover with the dog outside, he could probably avoid being found out.

He just had to sneak out, before anyone caught him and realized he hadn't done his homework yet.

Jason pushed the door to his room the rest of the way open and peeked in.

Ace wasn't in his room- that was generally where the dog went when Jason wasn't around.

He stepped back and turned away. If Ace wasn't in his room, then Jason would have to look for him elsewhere.

Jason started down the hall, intent to search for him in the lower levels.

Ace often spent time in the kitchen as well, enjoying the warmth of the stove when Alfred was baking, unless the butler sent him out.

He wasn't prepared for a hand on his shoulder.

Almost instantly, he lashed out, but his fist hit nothing but air.

Dick had seen the signs and pulled back just in time.

Jason stared at him, heart beating rapidly, as he tried to dispel the image of Owen Rogers' face.

"Jason…" Dick said, a little uncertainly. Already, he looked like he was mentally kicking himself for creeping up on him.

Maybe another time, Jason would have been amused by the guilt written across Dick's face, but right now he was too angry and embarrassed to have found out that he wasn't as over things as he had thought.

"You snuck up on me?" Jason glared at him. "Why would you do that?" He was aware that he was clenching and unclenching his fists, almost like he was prepared to launch himself at his brother if need be.

"Sorry!" Dick held up his hands in a gesture of peace. "I was just… worried."

"Worried?" That wasn't the answer Jason had been expecting. They had a habit of sneaking up on each other when they thought the other wasn't expecting it.

He'd thought it was maybe an ill-timed prank.

Jason hadn't been expecting worry to the reason.

"You haven't said a word to anyone since getting home from school," Dick pointed out. "In fact, you disappeared pretty much as soon as you got home. Is somethin…"

He stopped, brows furrowing, and Jason suddenly wanted to hide his face.

He didn't, however, facing Dick stubbornly instead.

"Are those bruises on your face?"

Jason wished he had chosen to look away, to continue on his way to find Ace anyways.

Anything.

Because he really, really didn't want to have this conversation.

"Did something happen at school?"

"No," Jason said shortly. Automatically, he brought a hand up to his cheek, though he knew that would only draw more attention to the marks.

"Jay…" Dick frowned at him.

Jason glared at him. "I can handle myself!"

That was it. No "you should see the other guy," because, in this case, the other guy didn't really have anything to show for it.

Except maybe bruised knuckles.

Maybe he'd be a little sore-Jason had gotten a few kicks in and maybe one punch, but there had been three of them. And then a fourth had joined in.

"It's _stupid_ ," Jason declared vehemently.

"Jason," Dick said, "Bruce got a call from your school."

Jason's head snapped up at that. He'd hoped they wouldn't actually call, but… it seemed like that had been too much to hope for.

"I don't think it's stupid," Dick said pointedly. "What happened? I don't think you were picking a fight over nothing."

"They were picking on a girl," he finally admitted reluctantly. His fists clenched, nails digging angrily into the flesh of his palm. "Rebecca Long. They're _always_ mean to her and they just… they never give her a break. So…"

"So you decided to step in help her out?" Dick's voice was sympathetic and entirely without judgement.

Jason found himself looking at his older brother in surprise.

"Don't look at me like that. I got into my fair share of fights when I was at school." Dick almost laughed, but seemed to stop himself.

Part of Jason wished he would have laughed. Maybe some of the tension in the room would have been broken.

But instead, Dick is looking at him entirely seriously.

"I did! And half of them were because of some kind of comment about my heritage, so… it's not like they were for anyone but me."

"Oh."

"Yeah 'oh.'" Dick shifted. "So… they were picking on this girl… What happened after that?"

"One of them came up behind me. He knocked me down." Jason hated admitting that part. The boy had been bigger than him. By a lot. Living on the streets, not getting enough to eat, for most of one's life tended to make one smaller.

And it didn't matter that he was Robin, the Boy Wonder, Batman's partner, when he was at school.

It wasn't like he could actually use any of those skills for fight bullies.

"They hit you after you were already on the ground?"

Jason was surprised by just how much anger there was in Dick's voice.

He glanced up. "I hit him back." He's gotten up too. There was no way he'd have stayed down if he had a choice in the matter.

"Good for you." Dick actually grinned, though the dark light in his eyes didn't go away. Then he looked serious. "Bruce is going to warn you again after this. You can't put your civilian identity at risk."

Jason opened his mouth to protest, but Dick beat him to it.

"But don't let bullies be bullies either, Jay."

* * *

Bruce hung up the phone and ran a hand down over his face. It didn't surprise him to learn that Jason had been in a fight.

Quite the opposite actually.

The boy was volatile.

But Bruce knew he wouldn't have attacked without provocation, yet the principle he had talked to had not been very… forthcoming with the details.

Which meant dragging the answers from Jason.

That on top of a lecture he wasn't sure the boy deserved.

He sighed. He did have to talk to him about avoiding fights. Even if Jason didn't _start_ them (and he _had_ started them-quite frequently too-in the past), he certainly never went out of his way to avoid them.

But if bullying had been involved… which is what he suspected, than he wasn't really sure he was against it.

Bruce stood, leaving the room.

He needed to find Jason. The boy had stormed upstairs immediately after getting home, leaving his backpack near the door.

Bruce hadn't reprimanded him for that at the time, suspecting he'd needed to work off some steam.

Now as he made his way to the staircase, he saw Dick already on his way down.

He spotted Jason behind him, coming down the steps a little slower. He wasn't quite dragging his feet, but he was certainly taking his time.

Jason reacted to Bruce's presence first, eyes widening and then narrowing slightly with guilt.

Even from this distance, Bruce could make out poorly concealed bruises on his face.

So he'd been hurt and he hadn't wanted Bruce to know about it.

Bruce clenched his fist, but carefully schooled his expression.

Any anger present on his face when he confronted Jason would likely be misconstrued as anger, or worse, disappointment, towards him, and he knew that would either cause the boy to clam up or become confrontational.

If he was going to have a conversation with him, than neither of those would be a good response.

Dick spotted him and, knowing instantly that Bruce wanted some privacy, he veered off to the side, intent on finding something else to do.

And so, when Jason reached the bottom of the stairs, that left simply the two of them alone.

"I heard about your fight at school."

Internally, Bruce winced. That wasn't the best way to open this… whatever he wanted to call it. It sounded far too judgemental, like he was prepared to get up on his case.

 _Are you entirely sure you're not?_

Bruce silenced the doubt and scanned Jason for any sign that this might get ugly. He really didn't want this to become a fight, but if Jason suspected Bruce didn't understand him, it might.

Jason instantly looked cautious, but he didn't snap. Bruce was sure that Dick had said something to him earlier and he was silently grateful. Dick had seemingly smoothed things over.

Jason still hadn't answered him though and he frowned.

"Jason." His voice was sterner this time. He wanted this to be a mutually beneficial discussion, but he was a father here first and foremost. If he wanted the answers, than he was going to get them.

Jason opened his mouth. Then he shut it again.

"Did you get into a fight at school?" Bruce asked.

Jason met his eyes, suddenly standing a little straighter in defiance. "Yes," he said defensively. "But they had it coming."

"Do you want to tell me why?" Bruce pressed. "And while you're at it, why don't you tell me about the bruises on your face. Did that happen then too?"

Jason seemed to fight the urge to bring a hand up to his face, instead clenching it down by his side. "It was these kids at school. There's a group of them that always pick on the younger kids or… weirdos. People they think are different."

"Do they pick on you too?" Bruce was careful to keep his voice gentle. If Jason was being bullied, than he wanted to know about it. And while he was certain that the boy from crime alley felt that he could handle himself, he still wanted to put a stop to any torment that might be occurring at the school.

A grim smile nearly came to his lips. He was Bruce Wayne. He knew that if he put a call in to the superintendent, any complaint that he made would have to be thoroughly investigated. And if it wasn't… well, he could always withdraw funding until the matter was handled.

Jason stilled for a moment, before shrugging. "Maybe. Not much though. They pick on this one girl in my class. There's…" He reddened. "Her face. It was how she was born, but…" He trailed off uncomfortably, but Bruce knew what he was implying and it was enough to make him furious.

He would most definitely be calling the school to file a complaint.

"And so you stepped in to stop them?"

Jason nodded. "I got in a few good hits too." His face lit up with a sort of vicious pride at the victory and Bruce made a note to talk to him about it later on. Right now, though, he just wanted to get the full story, complete and uninterrupted.

"And the bruises?"

Now Jason brought his hand up, rubbing his cheek as a dark look crossed his face. "One of them came behind me. He knocked me down."

He didn't say anymore, but it was easy enough to guess where things had gone from there.

And Bruce suddenly felt cold rage stir within him. They had knocked his son down. They'd marked him, beaten him when he was down.

Whatever he felt must have shown on his face, because Jason suddenly snapped, "I told you they deserved it!"

Bruce's eyes found him again and he decided to overlook the tone this once. "I'm not angry with you," he assured him. "You did the right thing standing up for that girl."

Jason was surprised. "I thought you didn't want me to fight?" he said cautiously, almost suspiciously. "'Why wouldn't you be angry?"

"Jason, what do we do when we go out at night?" Bruce asked seriously. "If you had left that girl on her own, I would have been disappointed."

"So…" Jason narrowed his eyes, "you're not disappointed?"

Bruce closed the rest of the distance between them, resting a hand on Jason's shoulder. "No," he said. "I'm not. I'm proud of you, Jay."

Jason blinked several times. "... oh," was all he said.

"You stood up for someone who needed you to," Bruce explained. "That's something I want you boys to do, in costume and out. You don't need a mask to be a hero, Jason."

Jason stared at him a moment longer before breaking out into a grin. "You mean I _do_ get to fight in school? Awesome!"

Bruce sighed. "Jason…"

"But if it's for a good cause, than there's no problem, right?"  
"That doesn't mean you go looking for a fight."  
"Unless it's for a good cause."

"Jason…"

"What?" If possible, the boy grinned even wider. "I won't hit anyone who doesn't deserve it. Promise."


End file.
